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PEG, THE RAKE 




BY 

R I T A ” 

Author of “ Dame Durden,'’ “ Sheba,” “ Countess Phara- 
mond,” ^‘The Ending of My Day,” etc., etc. 


7»;g. 


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,V 


IN TWO FARTS— PART ONE 


Entered according Cb Act of Congress, in the year 1895, by 
PKTKK FENEX.0N' COLLIKK 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington 





The Villain- 

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Solid, healthy flesh is supplied by^ 



Scott 


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of Cod-liver Oil, with hypophosphites 
of lime and soda. Disease is thus 
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It is well to take Scott’s Emulsion when 
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illness. 

Prepared by SCOTT & BOWNE, N. Y. Druggists sell If. 




‘ If thou art still a griefless girl or boy, 

In love with life, and ignorant of love’s grave, 
Read not iierein ! For thee no gift have I, 

And be thou thankful that no gift I have ! 

‘ But, if time’s way-worn traveler thou art. 

Hail, pilgrim ! 'Tis for thee this book was writ — 
The same sad pilgrimage, tho’ far apart, 

We two have made, and know the pain of it.” 

. — Oiven Meredith. 


(?) - 






TO 

Mrs. HELEN BLACK 


IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
OF THAT RARE GIFT IN LIFE 
A TRUE FRIENDSHIP. 


N'ovember^ 1894. 


% 



PEG, THE RAKE 


CHAPTER I. 

•*In every life a story ...” 

“I’ll go nap,” said Miss Em. 

“Get it,” said the doctor, glancing up from 
his own hand with an expression of doubt and 
disappointment. 

Miss Em’s slender white fingers lingered lov- 
ingly over tlie cards while three pair of eyes 
watched keenly her first move. She put down 
an ace of hearts with an air of defiance. 

“Bravo, Miss Em!” said Captain Kearney, 
usually known to friends and foes alike as 
‘ ‘ Paddy'. ” “ Where hearts are concerned, you’re 

pretty” safe to win!” 

“Well, you haven’t one to lose at any rate,” 
said Miss Em, flashing her gray^ Irish ey'es at 
him as he covered her ace with the five of sj^ades. 
“But remember. Dr. MacShamus, win or lose, 
this is my last game to-night. Gracious! ’tis 
ten o’clock already,” with a glance at the black 
marble clock on the mantel- shelf. “You know 
what mv father is ! He was in a precious tem- 

( 5 ) 


6 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


per, too, when I came out; and I fear absence 
won’t be making his heart grow fonder.” 

“Ah! don’t be minding him,” said Dr. Mac- 
Shamus, to whom Miss Em’s abundant years 
of discretion made such allusions unimportant. 
“Your trick, of course?” 

Miss Em smiled significantly, and led the king 
of the same suit, followed by the queen, ten, and 
ace of clubs. 

“Ah, faith! ’tis nap sure enough,” said the 
doctor, with pretended disgust. “Fortune’s 
favored you to-night. Miss Em!” 

The lady addressed carefully gathered up her 
winnings with a keen glance at the gold gleam ^ 
ing here and there amid the pile. She never 
cared to play unless the stakes were high, though 
she professed to love cards for their own sake 
entirely. 

“Ah, doctor, you’re disappointed,” she said, 
as she closed her purse. “But you needn’t be- 
grudge me the luck to- night . I sorely need it, 
and ’tisn’t ‘Miss Em’ would have gone nap un- 
less she felt sure of getting it.” 

“The old gentleman turned rusty again?” in- 
quired Captain Kearney^, twirling his fair mus- 
tache, and watching his late opponent with the 
interest and amusement she never failed to arouse 
in him. 

“Is he ever anything else?” said Miss Em, 
with a shrug of shapely shoulders under a well- 
fitting but well-worn gown. “I expect there’ll 
be no getting off from Carrig-duve for me this 
many a day. Sorry 1 am now I came over for 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Christinas ; for with a stapmother who preaches 
filial duty and then makes your home a hell, ’tis 
enough to try a saint.” 

“Indeed it is, my dear, ” said Mrs. MacShamus, 
with a vague idea that it was about time she “took 
up her parable,” and spoke. The doctor’s con- 
versational powers usually exercised a whole- 
some check upon her own. 

“But you wouldn’t be calling yourself a saint, 
Miss Em?” interposed that loquacious individ- 
ual. “Shure, ’tis a chip of the old block you 
are, and always will be. I’ll take my oath o’ 
that. Why, don’t I remember — ” 

“No tales now, doctor!” interrupted Miss Em, 
hastily. “Even the devil’s not as black as he’s 
painted !” 

^‘And perhaps the saints aren’t as white,” said 
Captain Kearney. “You’ll let me have the 
' honor of escorting you home. Miss Em?” 

“Indeed, you’re very kind,” she answered, 
with a glance at the handsome, good-humored 
face. There was a faint pink flush on her own, 
born of nervousness, not embarrassment. Miss 
Em’s savoir faire was proverbial. 

She walked over to the large old-fashioned fire- 
place, and began to smooth her hair at the mir- 
ror. It was brown in hue and with a natural 
ripple in it, and was worn in a somewhat old- 
fashioned style, which her juveniles termed 
“window curtains,” but Miss Em was wise 
enough to know that a fringe would only vulgar- 
ize a face that could not only bear but look dis- 
tinguished under a severe style of hair-dressing. 


8 PEG, THE RARE. 

She gave an adjusting touch to a rebellious lock 
or two, and a cautious pat to the elaborate coils 
which graced the back of her head, and which 
would have taxed even a child’s credulity as to 
being the natural growth of any human cranium. 

She was a well-preserved woman of forty, 
though with the advantage of appearing a good 
five years less than her real age. Her friends 
on looking back for her (a thing Miss Em never 
cared to do for herself) produced from a tradi- 
tional past a goodly store of evidence as to her 
beauty and conquests, but neither one nor other 
had resulted in anything more satisfactory than 
‘‘old maidenhood” and a career of adventure at 
which she herself often jested in public. 

Her private estimate of herself and her life 
was locked safely away in the recesses of her own 
heart. Not even her nearest and dearest (and 
Miss Em had a power of attracting and retain- 
ing very warm affections) ever guessed Ihe feel- 
ings that lay concealed beneath that gay and 
reckless exterior — or the ^rue histor\ of a girl- 
hood that had won for her the sobriquet of “Peg, 
the Rake.” 

There are turned-down pages in most lives. 
There were one or two in Miss Em’s, which, x 
even now', slie shrank from re-opening: pages 
thumbed and worn, and discolored with many 
tears; pages in a dusty volume which had its 
own special niche, its own secret abiding-place. 
The volume of that youth whose requiem she had 
long since heard in the strains of a useless regret 

“Come, Miss Em, you’re beautiful enough.' 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


9 


said Dr. MacShamus, jestingly. “And who’s 
to see you to-night? Sorra a bit of moonlight or 
starlight either is there. ’Tis your own eyes you 
must trijst to.” 

“Miss Em wouldn’t need any better lantern,,” 
said Captain Kearney, gallantly, as the lady in 
question adjusted her bonnet and slipped into a 
shabby though serviceable seaiskin. “By the 
way,” he added, suddenly, “are you going to 
Dublin for the Kellys’ ball? Because my leave’s 
up, and, as I’ve to return there, we might travel 
the same day.” 

“What day do you go?” asked Miss Em, 
diplomatically — she had received no invitation 
for the ball, but the very hearing of it aroused 
a determination to be present at whatever cost. 
These little strategies were just what she en- 
joyed. 

“On Tuesday,” answered the captain, rising, 
as he saw she was ready. “The day before, you 
know.” (Miss Em did not know, but made a 
mental note of the date.) “It’s to be most bril- 
liant,” he added; “no expense spared, and half 
Dublin asked.” 

Again that faint pink flush colored Miss Em’s 
somewhat worn cheek — it was born of natural 
indignation this time. Half Dublin asked, and 
her name omitted I Surely her popularity was 
not on the wane. 

“Tuesday would suit me very well, Paddy,” 
she said, drawing on her gloves, apparently oblivi- 
ous of the fact that the doctor had brewed her a 
glass of punch, which was steaming with invit- 


10 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


iDg fragrance on the table. “We can arrange 
time later on.” 

“Mine is at your disposal, of N^ourse,” an- 
swered Paddy, accepting a glass of the *punch 
from the doctor, and offering it with polite alac- 
rity to her. “Now don’t shake 3'our head. Miss 
Em. Shure, this wouldn’t hurt a babe, and it’ll 
keep the cold out. You know the doctor’s recipe 
by this time?” 

“ ’T would be mighty strange if she didn’t,” 
observed Dr. MacShamus, with a good-humored 
twinkle in his eyes; “for many’e the time she’s 
had the benefit of it” 

Miss Em accepted the glass without further 
demur, and edged cautiously in the direction of 
Mrs. MacShamus. 

“I’m glad to be able to pay off my debt so 
soon, dear,” she whispered, slipping a sovereign 
into the good lady’s palm. “If it hadn’t been 
for the loan of this, ’tis little chance I ’a have had 
of getting off to Dublin, or anywhere else. I 
can’t screw a penny out of the gov’ner now.- 
’Tis meaner and meaner he gets, and little to be 
wondered at considering' who he’s got to back 
him up. Jf it wasn’t for my luck at cards I 
don’t know where I’d be!” 

“Poor dear/” said Mrs. MacShamus, sympa- 
thetically. “’Tis a shame to be bullied and 
badgered like a child, and at your age, too!” 

The good lady often spoiled an admirable in- 
tention by a mal a propos remark. Miss Em, 
however, was too pachydermatous to feel such 
random shots as anything but the merest touch 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


11 


on the target of vanity. Time was when they 
would have penetrated deeply enough; but the 
world and its lessons had been an efficient cure, 
and her unfailing good-nature and unconscious- 
ness of offense were one of the secrets of her 
social success. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay io gossip any more,” 
she said now; “the doors will be locked and 
barred as it is, but I asked Quinlan to let me 
in by the little side entrance — she’s such, a good 
creature, and willing to do anything in the world 
for me. Oh, I’d almost forgotten” — and she 
glanced half nervously in the direction of the 
two men, who were now discussing agrarian 
outrages in excited tones — “do you happen to 
know if Lady Pat is in Dublin? I’ve not heard 
from her for ages.” 

“She was there for Christmas, ” said Mrs. Mac- 
Shamus. “The O’Briens told me that; Ibi^t she 
wasn’t meaning to make any long stay, she wants 
to go abroad again.” 

Miss Em’s gray eyes flashed eagerly. “No? 
You don’t say so? But her niece was so ill, and 
she never travels alone!” 

“Maybe the poor thing is better now, ” hazarded 
Mrs. MacShamus as an agreeable suggestion. 

“Maybe she’s not, and I pray she ma5m’t be,” 
was the thought in Miss Em’s mind as she cheer- 
fully echoed that suggestion and bade farewell 
to host and hostess. 

“Poor dear Miss Em!” sighed the doctor’s 
wife, as the door closed upon her at last. 

“Ah, faith! you needn’t be wasting your pity 


12 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


there!” answered her husband, planting himself, 
glass in hand, on the hearthrug. “Now just tell 
me what she wormed out of you to-night, and 
I’ll give you a sketch of her maneuvers for the 
spring campaign.” 

“That’s not a kind way pf speaking of her, 
Jerry,” said his wife, rebukingly. “I’m sure 
the poor thing is as innocent as a child, and very 
hardly used too. There’s neither man nor wo- 
man copld say a good word for that stepmother 
of hers. Whatever possessed Mr. O’Hara to 
marry her, and at his age, too, beats me en- 
tirely. ’ ’ 

“Marriage,” said Dr. MacShainus, oracularly, 
“is just the one action in life that a man’s friends 
never can see any reason for! I can give a 
pretty good guess though for the reason of 
O’Hara’s marriage, badly as it’s turned out.” 

“Why, Jerry, you’ve always said — ” 

“Pooh, pooh,” he interposed, hastily. “And 
why shouldn’t I be saying it? I know what 
women’s tongues are. Was I going to tell you 
anything tharwould be half over the parish the 
next day? But the marriage is an old story 
now, and it didn’t do what it was intended, 
more’s the pity.” 

“But what was that?” persisted Mrs. Mac- 
Sham us, who when she once seized upon an idea 
was loth to relinquish it. 

The doctor sipped his punch slowly and thought- 
fully and regarded his spouse with an air of 
doubt, as if uncertain of her discretion in any 
matter of marital confidence. “What was it?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


13 


he said at last. “Well, only that Peg, as they 
called her, was getting a bit too wild, and needed 
curb, and if there ever was a woman capable of 
clapping it on and keeping it tight, then Mrs. 
O’Hara No. 2 is that woman.” 

“Miss Em hates her,” said the old lady; “and 
she’s quite turned her father’s heart away from 
her. ’Tis a shame, and his only child, too! 
But, Jerry,” she resumed, harking back to a 
long pent-up curiosity on this subject, “since 
we’re speaking of the O’Haras, do tell me what 
the story was about Miss Em, I never could get 
the rights of it. Not that I believe there was 
anything wrong, though people do say — ” 

‘ ‘ There you go ! W omen’s tongues and women’s 
gossip!” exclaimed the doctor. “And as if I’d 
be adding tO/it ! Bygones are bygones ; old heads 
won’t grow on young shoulders, nor young blood 
run cool and slow in young veins. There’s a 
wild strain in all the O’Hara lot and has been 
for generations. It wasn’t likely Peg would 
escape it. She was a beautiful girl, too — ’tis a 
pity she didn’t make a good match when she had 
the chance.” 

“There’s hope for her yet,” said Mrs. Mac- 
Sharaus, consolingly, “She’s much admired, 
and no one could say but what she’s ar fine wo- 
man and as light a dancer as a girl, God bless 
her!” 

^‘Do you suppose a sensible man would be 
marrying a woman of forty because she could 
dance still?” asked the doctor, sarcastically. 
“What fools you take us for! He’d have to 


14 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


get something better than that for his bargain, 
let me tell you.” 

Mrs. MacShamus looked crestfallen, - though 
she was well used to snubbing. “ You do snap 
one up so, Jerry,” she said, plaintively. “Of 
course I wasn’t meaning Miss Em would get a 
husband only because of her figure and her danc- 
ing. She’s so good-hearted and companionable 
any man might be glad of such a wife.” 

“What was she asking you before she left?” 
inquired the doctor, hastily, changing the sub- 
ject. 

Mrs. MacShamus cast lier thoughts back with 
some difficulty. “She repaid me the loan of a 
sovereign,” she exclaimed at last, unclasping her 
hand, where the coin still reposed. “And she 
talked about Dublin.” 

“Dublin? Ah, I thought so,” interrupted the 
doctor, sharply. “She’s had no invitation to 
the Kellys’ ball, I’d stake my life on it, but all 
the same she means to be there. You’ll hear 
something to-morrow.” 

“How can she go if she’s not been asked?” 
inquired Mrs. MacShamus, with an innocent 
unconsciousness of maneuvers and diplomacy 
which struck the sharp-witted doctor as aggra- 
ating. 

“How? — how?” he repeated. “Can’t a woman 
do anything if she makes up her mind to it? I’m 
not up to the ways and means she’ll employ, but 
I’d bet willingly on the result. Come, drink up 
your punch ; you’re letting it get cold, and there’s 
no more boiling water.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


15 


Mrs. MacShamus took out a netted silk purse 
from her pocket and carefully placed Miss Em’s 
sov^ereign therein; after which she slowly sipped 
the contents of her tumbler, but her mind was ill 
at ease. 

“1 told her Lady Patricia was in Dublin,” she 
remarked, with true feminine irrelevance. 

The doctor started. His thoughts had drifted 
far away from. Miss Em and her concerns, to 
professional matters. 

For a moment he surveyed his wife with a 
sort of wondering admiration. Then he laughed 
outright. 

“Trust a child or a fool to cut the Gordian 
knot of any difficulty!” he exclaimed. “My 
dear Theresa, let me compliment you for once. 
You’ve proved yourself an uncommonly clever 
woman!” 

Mrs. MacShamus regarded him with bewilder- 
ment. She never was quite sure whether her 
husband was laughing at her or not. 

“I wish you’d explain, Jerry,” she said nerv- 
ously. “What was there clever in my mention- 
ing about Lady Pat, or that her niece was still 
delicate and mightn’t be able to go abroad 
this winter?” 

“Go on — go on,” said the doctor approv- 
ingly. 

“But that was all.” 

“J.ZZ, are you sure? Well, you’ve not done 
badly; but I’ll leave Miss Em to thank you later 
on.” 

“I— I do wish I could understand you, Jerry,” 


16 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


said the old lady plaintively, as she rose. “But 
you quite bewilder my poor brains ; I never was 
clever, you know; Pm not like you. I’ve often 
wondered why you married me.” 

“Faith and so hare I!” said Dr. MacShanius, 
sotto voce; his natural and national politeness 
prevented the retort from being audible and hurt- 
ing the worthy lady’s feelings; but a long ex- 
perience of feminine peculiarities, as exemplified 
by patients in their respective relationship to the 
opposite sex, had often led him to speculate on 
the reasons of marriage. A man was so much 
better off without it. What possessed him to tie 
himself up, forfeit freedom, and burden himself 
with a score of responsibilities when he might 
just as well keep out of them? 

For himself there was always a professional 
excuse. A married doctor was more popular 
with lady patients than an unmarried one; but 
for the generality of mankind no such necessity 
existed. 

He watched his meek spouse gather up her be- 
longings —work-bag, spectacles and shawl — with 
which she always traveled from room to room. 
Then he opened the door, bade her good-night 
and returned to his easy- chair by the fire, and 
those reflections, moralizings, speculations, what 
you will, in which men indulge in that quiet 
half-hour sacred to nicotine and slippers. 

Fair goddess of the smoking-room, how much 
you have to answer for! What dreams of days 
long dead, of hours both sweet and sad, hopeful 
and hopeless, of memories, and regrets and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 17 

wasted hopes, float phantoin-like about those 
faint cloud whiffs from weed, or briar ! 

The living woman on whom the door has 
closed little dreams of the rival who takes her 
place — a place made sacred by the memories of 
youth ; a slip of a girl perhaps in an old washed 
muslin, the sunlight on her bright hair, the light 
of love in her shy eyes, yet lovelier and more 
dear than the beauty in^ diamonds and satin who 
bears the name she should have . borne. How 
sweet she looks through the dim haze of long 
past years! * How low and tender was her voice, 
how glad her welcome, how sorrowful her part 
ing words ! The vision fades ; the eyes that gaze 
on it grow misty, old, and world-weary as they 
are. Pshaw! away with such fancies; they 
have had their day; they are buried with the 
hopes that faded like those flowers exchanged, 
those vows whose ^‘forever” worldly pride or 
ambition made so brief. 

But it was no girlish sweetheart who haunted 
the good doctor’s dreams to-night. Life, even in 
youth, had meant for him hard work, stern dis- 
cipline, and many struggles. He had a genuine 
love of his profession, but every step upward had 
cost him a heavy price. A country doctor has 
to put up with much that his professional breth- 
ren in large cities never encounter. Dr. Mac- 
Sham us as a young man had been enthusiastic, 
zealous, and given to innovations more or less 
daring. But the small circle of humanity among 
whom his duties lay were obstinately arerse to 
reform in any shape, and a long battle with prej- 


18 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


udice and superstition had left him a somewhat 
soured and cynical man. He had married one 
of his own patients when he was well past the 
season of romance, and woman meant simply 
for him the “sex feminine,” who called forth the 
alternate compassion and cynicism of his nature. 
His wife had brought him some money, and 
they had never widened their dual responsibili- 
ties by the obligation of parentage. In the pres- 
ent stage of their history'^thej" were both well on 
in years, very comfortably off, and fairly popular 
with their neighbors, rich and poor alike. 

The doctor himself was valued by reason of his 
medical skill no less than by his being the safe 
recipient of many family secrets and many queer 
stories. They were never repeated; and dearly 
as Irish folk love gossip, none know better how 
to appreciate a safe confidant. 

It was a page of some such family history that 
Dr. MacShamus was scanning to-night as he sat 
alone by the fire and watched the smoke-clouds 
curl about his head from that well-beloved 
briar between his lips. A “dark queer page,” 
he called it, and one on which he had often spec- 
ulated. It concerned Miss Em, and was known 
only to her father and himself — af least, so he 
imagined. Buried in a grave of twenty years 
was there now any chance that it would have a 
resurrection? He hardly thought it possible, yet 
he wondered vaguely why it should trouble him 
to-night. There had been nothing to recall it, 
nothing to wake up the old fear. Yet why was 
she so anxious to go to Dublin, and why the pre- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


19 


tense that she had received that invitation to the 
Kellys’ ball? 

“There’s no making her out,” he muttered 
half aloud, as he shook out the ashes of his pipe 
and replaced it reluctantly on the rack above the 
mantel-shelf. “And I’m doubtful if even forty 
years have taught her prudence or discretion. 
Yet, what the devil does it matter to me? She 
surely knows her own business best.” 

' He stood contemplating the gray ashes of the 
dying fire for a few moments still following out 
a train of thought. “After all, would it have 
been better to let her have her own way?” he 
said thoughtfully. “The blackguard might have 
married her, and there’s no knowing but the 
property mayn’t fall to him yetf ’ 


20 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER 11. 

“In every heart a grief.” 


Miss Em and her escort stepped boldly forth 
into the dark, dreary night. She accepted his 
proffered arm, and for some moments they 
walked along in silence. 

The chiming of the church clock sounded loud 
and distinct and aroused an exclamation of sur- 
prise from her. 

“So late! Why, they’ll. all have gone to bed 
— and the fuss and botheration!” 

“Why do you mind them?” asked Captain 
Kearney. “Surely you can act as you please?” 

“1 can, of course; but I’m of a peaceable dis- 
position and hate rows and scenes. Acting ‘as 
I please’ means both.” 

“I don’t wonder you’re so seldom at home. 
You’ll have a good time in Dublin, I hope.” 

“Yes; Lady Pat’s house is a delightful one to 
stay at. You do feel in touch with the world, 
and the best people and the best things in it. 
What a charming woman she is!” 

“Charming indeed! I’m so glad you’re going 
there. Take care; did you step into the mud?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


21 . 


“Very nearly,” said Miss Em, with a little 
catch in her breath. “Ugh! how 1 hate these 
dirty country roads! I’m very sorry to be giv- 
ing you all this trouble, Paddy ; you’re coming 
a good deal out of your way.” 

“Oh, I’ll take the short cut back,” said the 
young man, good-humoredly. “Don’t be men- 
tioning trouble. Miss Ein. You know I’d walk 
ten times to do you a service.” 

“I know you’re very good to me,” said Miss 
Em, gratefully; “and I’m sure it’s little cause 
you have to be so. ’Tis not as if I was young 
and beautiful any longer. Time is very hard on 
women, Paddy.” 

“But there are other charms besides youth 
and beauty,” said the young Irishman gallantly. 
“And -jyoiiHl never be needing admirers, or 
friends either, as long as you live, that I’ll 
swear.” 

“What are those lights yonder?” asked Miss 
Em suddenly. “Not at Castle Lustrell surely! 
Yes; I do believe they are. Do you know if 
they’re entertaining to-night, Paddy?” 

“I heard some word of a dinner-party, but 
I’m not sure.” 

“And they didn’t ask you — your own uncle 
too? Surely that’s very strange.” 

“Well, you know, we’re not the best of 
friends,” said the young man, in a somewhat 
embarrassed manner. “The last quarrel was a 
bad one, indeed if it weren’t for Molly I’d have 
made it final, I think. The old fellow was 
downright insulting. I hate to have his money 


22 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


thrown at my head every time I go there — just 
as if I cared for it.” 

“No, ’tis Molly, I know,” said Miss Em 
shrewd]}^; “but that amounts to nearly the 
same thing in her father’s eyes.” 

“Why, he’s threatened to disinherit her a 
hundred times! There’s nothing on earth to 
present him. Indeed, he might be marrying 
again, he’s always talking about it.” 

“Is he really?” exclaimed Miss Em, eagerly. 
“I shouldn’t have thought he’d ever do that. 
After such a taste of matrimony as he’s had too !” 

“Isn’t it wonderful that Molly should be so 
sweet and lovely with such parents?” 

“Faith, ’tis a mercy we don’t all take after 
our progenitors,” said Miss Em, bitterly. “They 
entail quite enough upon us bj^ giving us life, 
without their tempers and infirmities being part 
of the bargain. Ah, ’tis a weary world, Paddy 
dear; often and often have I wished myself well 
out of it!” 

There was such a hopeless ring in her voice 
that the young man looked at her with genuine 
surprise. Miss Em had so long meant to him 
the embodiment of all that was bright, cheery 
and reckless, that he could not understand any 
darker side to the brightness, any shadow to the 
sunny, careless indifference habitually shown to 
life and its responsibilities. 

“I always thought you were on such good 
terms with life,” he said. 

“Because I get the best I can out of it? ... . 
Hist! Stay a moment. What was that?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


23 


They had opened a small gate and were pro- 
ceeding carefully up the leafless avenue when she 
uttered this exclamation. 

It was too dark for Captain Kearney to see the 
look of apprehension that had suddenly sprung 
into her gray eyes, but no darkness could prevent 
his noticing the sudden tremor of the hand that 
clasped his arm. It struck him as strange that 
Miss Em should be revealing herself in a new 
light to him to-night — the light of the nervous 
female who starts at shadows and hears in a 
chance footstep the ominous sound of assault or 
robbery. 

“’Tis only a falling twig from the trees,*’ he 
said reassuringly. “Why, Miss Em, you've 
nothing to fear from moonlighters or ‘the bhoys,’ 
have you?” 

She laughed somewhat hysterically. 

“Ko, no; of course not. Only I fancied I saw 
a figure moving there, just between the stems.” 

“Then your sight is better than mine by a long- 
way,” said the captain reassuringly. “I’m sure 
there’s^ no one. But I’ll see you safe up to the 
hall door, never fear. ” 

“’Tis the side way I’m going in,” said Miss 
Em, lowering her voice. “I won’t be disturbing' 
them since- it’s so late.” 

“All right,” he said, giving her hand a reas- 
suring pressure; and they stumbled on together 
in the brooding gloom, and ov^er a path that 
offered many impediments and obstructions. 
Unworn flints stood out in sharp relief from 
grassy ruts, the low, bare boughs almost touched 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


24 

their heads, the sighing wind was like a dirge 
heard in the starless gloom. The keynote of 
desolation was sharply struck by the whole deso- 
late surroundings, and even Paddy Kearney's 
habitual cheerfulness was chilled into silence 
and foreboding as he assisted his equally silent 
companion to the entrance she had indicated. 

Two conspirators could scarce have parted 
with more mystery and caution than did this 
strangely assorted couple. The captain went 
cautiously back over the rough path, while 
Miss Em herself approached a window from 
which a faint light gleamed, and tapped softly 
three times on the pane. The whole of the 
house was wrapped in darkness and every win- 
dow barred and shuttered; but at this signal the 
door was gently opened, revealing an elderly 
woman, who stepped forward shading the can- 
dle with one hand and peering intently into the 
darkness. 

“’Tis yourself. Miss Peg, dear.” 

“Of course, who else should it be?” whispered 
Miss Em, slipping quietly in, and closing the 
door with alacrity, and yet with a noiselessness 
born of long practice. “Have they gone up?” 
she continued, as the bolt slipped quietly into its 
well-greased socket. 

“Yes, alanah, this half-hour and more. Spake 
low or they’ll hear ye. They don’t know you’re 
out. Sure, the lies I’ve been after telling, but 
then, ’twas in a good cause — glory be to God! 
Faith, ’tis the mistress is in the divil of a temper 
to-night.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


25 


Miss Em shrugged her shoulders and took the 
candle, gathering her skirts carefully about 
her. 

“Good-night, Quinlan,” she said in a whisper, 
as she glanced up the well-worn carpeted stairs. 

“Good-night, and God bless you, me dear,” 
whispered back the old woman, watching her 
progress upward with anxious eyes. Step by 
step Miss Em advanced, neither rustle nor creak 
betraying her movements. Long habit had made 
her aware what stair was to be treated with def- 
erence and what was ^ ‘ noise-proof. ’ ’ She reached 
the upper landing, nodded triumphantly to the 
old woman, and disappeared, 

“Shure His a shame to see the creature sneak- 
ing into her own father’s house, for all the world 
as if she’d neither right nor place in it; and well 
1 know ’tis herself ought to be mistress, ” muttered 
Quinlan, who had been nurse, housekeeper, and 
general factotum in the family for over thirty 
years. To her. Miss Peg was still a girl, still the 
willful, reckless, extravagant creature whose torn 
frocks she had mended, whose faults she had 
screened, and whose escapades she had hidden 
or excused. That she had driven her mother 
to despair .and half broken her father’s heart by 
her flirtations, extravagances, and heedlessness 
were all but venial sins in the eyes of the doting 
old woman. Indeed, it is probable that but for 
her Peg would have been a better child, and “Miss 
Em” a better woman. 

No sooner had the door closed on her than, 
with a sigh of relief, she placed the candlestick 


26 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


on the dressing-table and sank into an armchair 
beside it. It was curious to note how the whole 
face changed, as if a mask had been removed. 
Lines and shadows — thrown into strong relief by 
the flickering light — revealed with unsparing 
cruelty the ravages of Time. An expression of 
intense weariness and depression darkened the 
still brilliant eyes, and the lips, usually so gay 
and smiling, grew set and stern. Miss Em 
looked every day and hour of her age as she sat 
there, wrapped in thoughts that seemed far from 
pleasant; her wearied brain busy with schem- 
ing ; and yet something within her, of which she 
was dimly conscious, despising those very schemes, 
and at once condemning and ridiculing the end 
for which she worked as the ignoble thing she 
knew it to be. 

Suddenly she rose and threw off her bonnet 
and sealskin. Then with an impatient glance at 
the mirror she went over to a cupboard, unlocked 
it and took out two candles. These she placed 
in a pair of broken china candlesticks on the 
dressing-table and lighted them. 

“To think,” she muttered, contemptuously, 
“that the very lights are begrudged one at Car- 
rig- duve! How times have changed, and oh! 
how I hate and detest meanness, for ’tis noth- 
ing else ! There’s money enough n,nd to spare, 
of that I’m certain ; but that woman would skin 
a flint if ever woman would.” The three can- 
dles made quite a brilliant illumination round the 
mirror, and the kindly shadows left the general 
shabbiness of the large room unrevealed. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


27 


Miss Em stood for a moment contemplating 
her own reflection. 

“1 to be scheming for balls and parties!” she 
exclaimed, with a short, bitter laugh. “I! and 
yet what would my life be if it weren’t for these 
poor excitements? Home, love, youth, beauty, 
all gone from me now, and there’s nothing to 
replace them — nothing! Fifteen, ay, even ten 
years ago, what a different face looked back at 
me from that very glass ! what a different heart 
throbbed in this same breast ! But I can’t give 
in. 1 wonH. I’d sooner die than acknowledge 
myself beaten; and I’ll make something of my 
life 5^et ! Forty ! why, it’s not such an age after 
all! and I don’t look it always.” 

She unfastened the massive braids at the back 
of her head and laid them carefully on the dress- 
ing-table ; then shook down her own hair, which 
made a soft screen for her face, the ends curling 
naturally on her shoulders. Time was when 
those thick rippling curls had been a charm and 
delight; but their sheen and abundance had de- 
parted, and fliough Miss Em could still make 
what she termed “a brave show in the front, ” 
the aid of art had long been called in to supple- 
ment the scanty scalp-locks of which the j^ears 
had taken a too generous toll. 

“I want some new plaits badly,” she said with 
a heavy sigh, as she held the false and true to- 
gether, and surveyed theadvertiseinent of “quan- 
tity not quality” with undisguised contempt. 
“But, indeed, if it comes to that I want a great 
many things that I stand small chance of getting. 


28 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


I ought to have a new gown for the Kellys’ ball. 
That peach silk I saw in Tierney’s window would 
be the very thing. Lady Pat would get it, and 
Mrs. Coadey make it up for me by Tuesday, and 
the ball is on Wednesday. I could try it on, 
there ’d be a whole day for alterations, if they 
were needed, but Coadey knows my figure well 
enough. If only that bill wasn’t owing. Could 
I borrow ten pounds, I wonder? My father 
thinks so much of Lady Pat; he might fork 
out a fiver, and there’s Mrs. MacShamus, 
she’s so good-natured. Well, it’s worth try- 
ing. Let me see, how much did I win to- 
night?” 

She drew out her purse and emptied its con- 
tents on the table. little heap of silver and 
four gold sovereigns. 

“Little enough,” so ran on her reflections. 
“There’s my fare to come out of it, and I can’t 
be without money altogether, though Lady Pat 
is generosity itself. I wonder will she be will- 
ing to ask me? I ought to have my letter ready 
for Quinlan to catch the first post in the morU- 
ing. She’ll get it to-morrow night, and I should 
have the answer next day. Here goes — ’tis the 
bold player wins the game.” 

On a small table at the foot of the bed stood 
a supply of writing materials. Miss Em opened 
a blotter and commenced the letter forthwith. 
She wrote a fine dashing hand, and composition 
seemed to give her no trouble, for the words 
flowed as freely from her pen, as, on occasion, 
they could from her lips. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


29 


“Dear Lady Patricia” (ran the missive), 
“I want to run up to Dublin next Tuesday for 
a few days, and I’m going to ask you to put me 
up, if it won’t be too inconvenient. I’ve a little 
shopping to do, and some business matters to see 
to. Besides, I want the pleasure of a chat with 
you again, and to ask your valued advice on a 
very important matter.” 

“That will flatter her,” thought Miss Em, 
pausing to read over the last sentence. ‘ ‘ Lady 
Pat dearly loves to be consulted, not that I’ve 
really anything to ask her advice about, but 
that’s no matter, I can invent something when 
I’m once there.” 

She hastily added a few more lines, signed and 
closed the letter, and then proceeded to finish her 
toilet for the night. 

The rain was falling heavily now, and the low 
“sough” of the wind had increased to a noisy 
bluster. Miss Em shivered as she removed her 
dress and threw a warm crimson dressing-robe 
round her. Then slowly and thoughtfully she 
proceeded to brush her hair, pausing now and 
then to listen to the signs of storm without. 

Was it only fancy, or did a sudden soft tapping 
sound at the window behind her? 

She started ; the brush fell from her hands ; her 
white face and rigid figure betokened a wild ter- 
ror, and her eyes rested on the white blind with 
an awful look of expectance and dread. But it 
remained motionless, and the sound was not re- 
peated. 


30 


PE&, THE RAKE. 


Gradually her features relaxed, the color came 
back to her face and lips. “How foolish I am! 
’tis only that old bough striking the glass. How 
often I’ve said I’ll have it cut off!” 

She sank into the chair. She was trembling 
so that she could not stand. ‘ ‘ I don’t know what’s 
the matter with me to-night. My nerves seem 
all wrong. As if it were possible .... as if 
he would dare — ever again!” 

Her thoughts broke off. She clasped her hands 
and bent her head on them, her whole attitude 
intent on eager listening. 

But the pitiless rain alone sounded in the si- 
lence, and gradually the strained figure relaxed 
and she lifted her head with an air of relief. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


31 


CHA.PTER III. 

PLOTS AND PLANS. 

Carrig-duve was a large rambling old house 
that stood among acres of neglected grounds and 
ill-kept fields. 

It spoke of desolation and decay within and 
without; but it had once breathed a very differ- 
ent tale, and been no less renowned for hospital- 
ity and splendor than its gorgeous rival Castle 
Lustrell. But with Mr. O’Hara’s second mar- 
riage an entire change came over the establish- 
ment; servants were dismissed, carriages put 
down, entertainments abolished, and the whole 
elaborate domestic machinery ground down, so 
to speak, to powder, under the iron heel of a 
penurious mistress. 

Rebellion, grumbling, defiance, all were un- 
availing. The second Mrs, O’Hara was a wo- 
man of despotic will and furious temper; but a 
woman who never undertook a thing unless she 
determined to carry it out. 

Desmond O’Hara was weak, ^nd loved a quiet 
life. The result is easily imagined. He had 
married in order to put some controlling power 
over his household, which under Peg’s manage- 


32 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


ment was an exemplification of riot, waste and 
extravagance, and also in the hope that female 
influence might be beneficial to that young lady 
herself, seeing that he had no control and very 
little influence over her. 

He had not breathed a word of his intention 
until he was actually married, and the first Peg 
knew of it was on her return from one of her 
visits abroad, when to her wrath, fury and dis- 
gust she found a new mistress in her place. 

To say that there were battles, many and fierce, 
between the willful, reckless girl and her deter- 
mined stepmother is needless; but even Peg, 
spoiled and self-willed as she was, found that 
the enemy was too strong for open warfare, and 
that strategy would be her best weapon in the 
future. With all her wildness and recklessness 
the girl had a fund of common-sense to fall back 
upon, so she took counsel with herself as to the 
future, and formed a plan of action that had the 
merit of serving her own interests and spiting 
her enemy. 

She had up to this time cared very little for 
the opinions of any of the numerous friends and 
acquaintances whom she alternately delighted or 
horrified by her vagaries. Now she commenced 
a cautious “weeding out” of the undesirable or 
useless among them, and put forth all the charm 
of manner, wit, and accomplishments with which 
she was gifted in order to make herself a wel- 
come guest wherever it suited her purpose to 
stay. 

It gradually dawned upon people’s minds that 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


33 


beautiful Peg O’Hara was a very ill-used and 
persecuted creature; and a warmer welcome V7as 
given to the motherless girl whose home was so 
wretched and whose lot so lonely, than even her 
own charms of mind and manner had once called 
forth. Thus Peg was less and less at. home, 
though each visit there, maddened her with the 
proofs of her stepmother’s penurious manage- 
ment, her father’s increasing helplessness, and 
the gradual disrepute into which the once bril- 
liant and hospitable Carrig-duve had fallen. 

Every one in the neighborhood began to shun 
Mrs. O’Hara, and the fact did not improve that 
lady’s sour and vengeful nature. It was openly 
averred that her treatment of her stepdaughter 
had been shameful; the poor girl was literally 
driven from home, and deprived of all that she 
was justly entitled to. Peg, in fact, was a 
martyr, and Mrs. O’Hara a tyrant, besides be- 
ing guilty of that inexcusable fault in Irish eyes 
— meanness. 

The very beggars avoided Carrig-duve, and, 
as year after year passed on, the whole place 
began to acquire that aspect of desolation and 
neglect which speaks so eloquently of fallen fort- 
unes. 

But these same years brought many changes 
in their train. Young girls. Peg’s contempo- 
raries, married and settled down into contented 
matronhood and maternity, middle-aged women 
became dowagers; death stole silent-footed in 
and out of populous households, taking here one, 
and there another, and people began to wonder 


34 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


how it was that Peg O’ Kara remained Peg O’Hara 
still. Offers she must have had in plenty, yet 
the twenties slipped into thirties, and they, one 
by one, dropped into the lap of the past, and still 
she manifested no intention of changing her con- 
dition. 

Her friends began to look anxious. Younger 
and fairer and sprightlier rivals had sprung up, 
and though Peg held her own bravely, there was 
effort now in the ^struggle, and anxiety in the 
little stratagems, and the girlish name was sel- 
dom heard, for she herself always desired new 
acquaintances to call her by Dr. MacShamus’s 
pet appellation of “Miss Em,” a familiar render- 
ing of the more stately Emilia which graced her 
baptismal certificate. 

If there was any romance in her past, any 
mystery connected with her reasons for prefer- 
ring this wandering life when she, might have 
“settled down” over and over again, no one but 
herself knew it. Conjectures were numerous, of 
course, and of hiots and stories there was no lack, 
but no one was absolutely certain that any of 
them were correct ; and as year after year drifted 
by, gossip grew weary of gossiping, and “Miss 
Em” of Carrig-duve seemed to have buried the 
youthful escapades of “Peg, the Rake,” under 
a gravestone none cared to disturb. 

The storm of the past night had been replaced 
by fitful sunshine whose rays lingered warmly 
over the breakfast-table and its appointments as 
Miss Em entered the room. 


PKG, THE RAKE. 


35 


She kissed her fattier as she passed his chair, 
and nodded carelessly to her stepmother who was 
presiding over cold and watery coffee and whose 
only matutinal greeting consisted of the remark: 
“Late as usual, Emilia ! Will you never learn to 
remember that nine o’clock means nine o’clock 
in my establishment, whatever it ma^" do in that 
of your fashionable friends!” 

“Any letters?” inquired Miss Em, carelessly, 
quite ignoring this observation. “Excuse my 
reading them, dad, will you? My coffee can’t 
be much colder than it is, but I’ve asked Quinlan 
to keep back my slice of bacon in future until 1. 
come down. I do draw the line there.” 

Mrs. O’Hara shot a venomous glance at her 
stepdaughter, and tightened her thin lips omi- 
nously, but Miss Em proceeded to open her let- 
ters with an utter disregard as to her opinion or 
presence. She pushed them aside as the old 
servant entered with the bacon and some fresh 
toast. 

“Thanks, Quinlan,” she said he^artily. “I 
should fare badly if it wasn’t for you, I’m 
thinking.” 

“You’d fare as well as your father and my- 
self,” interposed the stepmother sharply, “if you 
came to meals at the proper time.” 

“Never could be punctual to save my life,” 
answered Miss Em coolly; “and I’m too. old to 
begin now_. But don’t let me detain you,” she 
added politely; “I see you’ve finished your— 
skilly, isn’t it? I promise I won’t take more than 
one lump of sugar. The butter, I see, you’ve 


36 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


measured out. You can lock up and give your 
orders if you wisli.” 

A dull red flush came into Mrs. O’Hara’s sal- 
low cheek. Her eyes flashed venomously. But 
though the barb hit home, the ruling spirit was 
too strong for even the sharpest sarcasm to affect 
it for long. She proceeded to lock up the butter 
and sugar as she always did, and then left the 
room intent on what Miss Em called her “cheese- 
paring” preparations for the day. 

As the door closed. Miss Em pushed her corre- 
spondence aside and glanced at her father. The 
faint winter sunlight falling on his wrinkled face 
and scant gray locks seemed like a sudden reve- 
lation to her. _ 

“How old and feeble he iooksi” she thought, 
with momentary tenderness. ‘ ‘ It seems a shame 
to worry him, and yet these bills must be paid. 

“Dad,” she said gently, using the old girlish 
appellation instead of the more slangy term she 
had of late introduced, “I want to ask if you can 
let me have my allowance a month earlier. I’ve 
got some bills to settle, and the people are worry- 
ing for payment.” 

“No, Em, I can’t,” said the old man pettishly. 
“You’re always forestalling your money, and it 
throws my accounts all wrong. Besides, you’ve 
jio business to run up bills. I’ve told you so a 
hundred times. Pay for what you get, or don’t 
get it at all, that’s the only way to avoid 
diflieulties.” 

“But 1 can’t pay for everything!” exclaimed 
Miss Em indignantly. “You grind me down so 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


37 


that I never have enough. What’s fifty pounds 
a year? It’s not as if you hadn’t the money 
either. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re sav- 
ing for ! Come now, dad,” she added coaxingly, 
“let me have twenty pounds to pay off these lit- 
tle bills and 1 promise I’ll keep strictly within my 
allowance this next year.” 

“No, Em, no,” said the old man, glancing 
apprehensively at the door. “Twenty pounds! 
Why, it’s a small fortune! One or two I might 
have managed, though even that wouldn’t be 
easy, but twenty — impossible, my dear. Impos- 
sible!” 

“You’ll drive me to do something desperate 
with your meanness!” exclaimed his daughter 
, passionately. “Good Lord! to think of the mas- 
ter of Carrig-duve haggling over a paltry twenty 
pounds! And to his own daughter too! ’Tis 
enough to make the very stones cry out on you.” 

The old man took no notice of this outburst. 
Domestic tyranny had cowed his spirit complete- 
ly. He always expected his women-folk to storm 
and rave, and experience had taught him that the 
louder the storm, the quicker it was exhausted. 
Miss Em finished her breakfast and returned to 
the charge. 

“I’m going to Dublin next week,” she said, 
“to Lady Patricia Moira. There’s to be a big 
ball, and I must look presentable. I can put up 
with a second-rate gown, but I must have my 
mother’s jewels. You will get them for me, 
governor, won’t you?” 

“I— I haven’t them, Em. I mean they’re in 


38 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


yoLir stepmother’s charge,” stammered the old 
man, with a conscience-stricken look at the pale 
and indignant face. that flashed astonished wrath 
at him. “She — well, she took the case from me 
one day as I was looking over it, and — ” 

“And of course you’ve never seen it since,” 
cried Miss Em in a tone of suppressed fury. 
“But they’re mine, you know my mother al- 
ways said 1 was to have them !” 

“Yes, yes,” said the old man feebly. “But 
legally, my dear, legally, they’re not yours at 
all. Most of them are family jewels and go to 
the mistress of Carrig-duve. 1 gave them to 
your mother, but if I had had a son — ” 

Miss Em’s eyes flashed ominjously. “They 
were niine,^^ she reiterated in a low stern voice. 
‘ ‘ I had more right to them than a stranger whom 
you chose to place at the head of your table, and 
who has dragged you down to penury and shame, 
and made your very name a laughing-stock in 
your own birthplace! Have them I will,” she 
continued, rising from the table, determination 
printed in eveiy line of her face. 

“You must get them for yourself, then,” said 
her father despairingly. “I can’t help you. 
’Tis a thousand pities, Em, you won’t try and 
get on with your stepmother. It would be so 
much better and pleasanter for us all!” 

“I hate her, and I’ve told you so a hundred 
times!” cried Miss Em, the hot Irish blood boil- 
ing in her veins, the fiery Irish temper flashing 
from her eyes., “You brought her here, you put 
her over me — you spoiled my whole life and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


39 


made my home a hell! And now, because 
you’re too cowardly to stand up for your own 
rights, or care what she does, you expect me to 
bow down to her also. Never ! I’d die sooner !” 

“Em, Em!” entreated the old man piteously; 
“don’t say such things; remember your own 
faults; remember the ruin from which 1 have 
saved you ! It was as much for your own sake 
as mine 1 gave another mistress to Carrig-duve. 
I saw you were too young, too willful, too reck- 
less to- rule here. Weren’t you ready even to 
make shipwreck of your own life?” 

“Hush!” said Miss Em, her face turning very 
white: “I thought we had agreed to bury that 
folly forever. Am I the onlj^ one in the family 
who has made mistakes, or committed follies? I 
think' the O’Haras could show a pretty record of 
misdeeds, and worse, if we looked back for a few 
generations. Once for all, father — ” 

But the abrupt opening of the door and the ap- 
pearance of Mrs. O’Hara with the housekeeping 
keys jingling in her hand cut short any further 
remark, and to avoid discussion Miss Em gath- 
ered up her letters and quickly left the room. 

Once behind her own locked door and safe 
from observation Miss Em tossed the letters and 
accounts on to the dressing-table and sat herself 
down to reflect on the situation. 

Money she must have, and there seemed little 
chance of wringing it from out of her father’s 
petticoat-guarded hoard. She knew well enough 
how every penny was doled out, and accounted 


40 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


for with the utmost strictness; how not a check 
was signed, nor a shilling advanced without her 
stepmother’s cognizance. Mrs. O’Hara even ob- 
jected to her paltry allowance, insufficient as it 
was, and would have curtailed it, if possible. 

“I’m afraid an old dress will have to do,” re- 
flected Miss Em ruefully. “But the diamonds I 
loill have, ’tis a little too much her getting hold 
of them. I wonder where she keeps them. Per- 
haps Quinlan knows; I’ll ask her when she 
comes up to do my room. If 1 could only hear 
from Lady Pat! I wish now I’d asked her to 
telegraph. ’Tis a whole day wasted.” 

A. step in the corridor arrested her attention. 
She opened her door and saw the old servant, 
duster and broom in hand, approaching. 

“Come in, Quinlan, a moment,” said Miss 
Em eagerly; “I want you.” 

She closed the door again, and turned the key 
against possible intrusion. 

“You can pretend you did my room first,” she 
said hurriedlj^. “There, begin sweeping, for 
goodness’ sake, and listen to me. Come over 
this side.” 

She hurried the old woman across to the other 
end of the room, regardless of her bewilder- 
ment. 

“Now tell me,” she said imperatively; “do 
you remember the black leather box that had my 
mother’s diamonds in it? Nod, you needn’t 
speak. 1 daresaj" she’s listening about some 
where. You do? VVell, where is it now?” 

“Locked in the old bureau, darlint, in the 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


41 


misiress’s bedroom,” whispered the old nurse 
obediently. 

Miss Em looked disconcerted. 

“Botheration! Is it there she keeps it? How 
on earth am I to get hold of them?” 

“Is it the jules you’re wanting. Miss Peg 
- dear?” asked Quinlan eagerly. “Shure but 
they’re your own. You’ve only to ask for 
them !” 

^^Ask for them! Ask herP^ exclaimed Miss 
Em contemptuously. “Kot I, indeed! She’s no 
right to have them, and I mean her to know that 
before long. Quinny dear,” she added coaxing- 
ly, “you’ll help me, won’t you? I’m going to a 
grand ball in Dublin, and 1 must have the dia- 
monds to wear at it.” 

“Of course, darlint. Who’s the right but 
yourself to do that same! Help ye? Shure 
and I will with all my heart. What’s it ye’d 
be wanting me to do now?” 

“To get me her keys any day before next Tues- 
day, and keep her out of the way for ten min- 
utes, that’s all, Quinny. I’d rather leave it as 
late as possible, ’ ’ she added thoughtfully. ‘ ‘ Less 
chance of her missing them. Say Monday, any 
time. Can you do it?” 

“’Twon’t be aisy, dear, but I’ll try my best. 
You know how close she is with everything, and 
kays in particular. Besides you’d want the 
two bunghes, wouldn’t you? — the bureau and 
the jule case? Ye’re not going to take them 
all?” 

“Every one, if I get the ch'ance,” said Miss 


42 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Em savagely, “What right has she, an inter- 
loper, a nobody, to the O’Hara jewels? She’s 
mean enough to sell them, or — ” she stopped 
abruptly, her eyes flashed, a sudden ripple of 
mirth spread over her whole face making it 
look almost youthful, “I wonder 1 never thought 
of that before ! There’s one way out of my diffi- 
culties at all events. Hush, Quinny, I hear her 
coming. Sweep, sweep like the devil, can’t you! 
Here, give me the broom and stand aside.” 

She seized it from the bewildered old woman’s 
hands and commenced so vigorous a use of it 
that the noise made the knock at the door almost 
inaiidible. It was repeated more loudly, “Quin- 
lan!” came in sharp, peremptory tones; “what 
are you doing there? You swept out Miss Emi- 
lia’s room yesterday; it doesn’t^require to be 
done again.” 

“Yes, it does,” answered her stepdaughter 
from within. “The carpet’s as dingy as an old 
horse-cloth, and I’m trying to see the pattern 
again. I’ve locked Quinlan in, so it’s no use 
your calling her. She can’t get out till I choose 
to let her.” 

There was a muttered exclamation, and the 
sound of retreating steps. 

“Shure, Miss Peg darlint, you do make her 
mad !” said Quinlan almost reproachfully. “And 
there’s^*a hape of things waitin’ to be done 
downstairs.” 

“Let lier do them herself then, if she won’t 
keep enough servants,” answered Miss Em scorn- 
fully. “’Tis shameful to make an old woman 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


43 


like you work so hard. I wonder you do it, 
Quinny. I wouldn’t.” 

‘‘Ah, Miss Peg dear, when you come to my 
time of life ’tisn’t much of the spirit of rebellion 
that’s left in you. For the sake of pace and for 
the sake of the family I’d work till the hands 
dropped off me.” 

“I believe you would!” said Miss Em, throw- 
ing down the broom, and with a sudden impulse 
of tenderness putting her arms round the old 
woman’s neck. “Quinny, if ever I marry a rich 
man I’ll take you away from here, and you shall 
live with me and never do another stroke of 
work except to help me ordering the dinners 
and superintending the servants. You shall 
have your own room, and a black silk gown 
to wear, and we’ll be as happy as the days are 
long!” 

“Faith, honey, and ’tis you have the generous 
heart, I know,” said the old woman, wiping a 
tear from her eye. “And never, never a one in 
the whole of Oireland wishes you better luck 
than meself. But, darlint, you’ve been a long 
time picking and choosing, if I may make so 
bold as to spake of it, and there’s but few good 
matches to be made nowadays. Shure the ould 
country isn’t what it was at all, at all!” 

“Quinny,” said Miss Em suddenly, as she laid 
both hands on the old woman’s shoulders, and 
looked gravely and almost sternly at the worn, 
wrinkled face, “I’ve made up my mind to marry 
some one, any one, if it is only for a home and 
peace. I’m sick of this wandering life, sick of 


44 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


scheming and plotting, and shifts and debts. 
God! how tired I feel of it all!” 

Her hands dropped. The light died out of her 
face. She walked across the room, and stood at 
the window looking out at the desolate garden 
and the leafless trees through which the pale 
wintry sunlight gleamed. 

“The spring will dawn again for them,” she 
said in her heart; “but never for me, never 
again for me!” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


45 




CHAPTER IV. 

« 

“ When in doubt ...” 

“ ‘Blessed are they who expect nothing:’ 
how much disappointment they escape!” 

Miss Emr thought this if she did not express it 
when Thursday morning failed to bring her the 
expected letter from Lady Patricia. She had 
made a supreme effort to be punctual at break- 
fast, but the effort was destined to be unre- 
waMed. Her disappointment was so keen that 
Mrs. O’Hara noticed it, and wondered what was 
the cause. The usual battle of words between 
herself and her stepdaughter was for once fore- 
gone, despite repeated challenges on her own 
part. Miss Em seemed absorbed in thought and 
utterly indifferent to her surroundings. 

“What shall I do if she fails me?” she said to 
herself again and again. “And yet why should 
she? We’ve always been good friends, and I’ve 
done nothing to offend her.” 

She retired to her own room and stood look- 
ing out of the window in a disconsolate manner. 
The whole long day to get through and nothing 
to look forward to^at the end of it ! 

Her spirits fell to zero ; she could have cried 


40 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


with vexation, but she felt that would be only 
capping one folly v/ith another. As a last re- 
source she determined to spend the time in look- 
ing over her wardrobe. All hopes of a new gown 
had faded. The peach silk must be left for some 
more fortunate rival j still she had other dresses, 
and was skillful enough in the art of alteration 
to make even an old ,one present a' totall.y new 
aspect. * 

With a desperate courage she plunged into the 
recesses of boxes and cupboards, producing there- 
from mariy strange and antiquated garments. In 
most of them the richness of material was ren- 
dered almost valueless by its extreme scantiness, 
a fact of which Miss Em was fully aware. ‘ ‘ Why, 
’t would take three of these to make one gown 
now,” she murmured, disconsolately, as she 
turned over brocades, and moires, and poplins, 
all useless garments according to fashion; yet 
wdth a quaint, old-world grace about the stiff 
whaleboned bodices, the blonde lace, and crushed 
artificial flowers. 

Most of them had belonged to her mother, a 
Tew were relics of her own girlhood, and her 
hand lingered lovingly over one or two, eloquent 
of a bygone time, sacred to memories of what 
“might have been.” 

At last she pushed them all away in a heap on 
the bed. Fot one of them would do. “ When in 
doubt, wear black!” she cried suddenly. “1 
wonder 1 never thought of that now! There’s 
that satin, ’twould be just the thing. 1 must 
sacrifice the body, which is a pity, but ’twill 


PEG, THE RAKE.. 


47 


easily cut low. If only 1 had some good lace. 
There ought to be some old Limerick somewhere ; 
but 1 suppose Madame Skinflint has it, and I 
wouldn’t demean myself to ask for the loan of 
it.” 

She looked approvingly at the soft rich satin, 
a little worn and shabby by daylight, but sure 
to be “equal to the occasion,” when a few magic 
touches had renovated the weak places and made 
the best of the strong. “Shall I cut up the bodice 
now, or wait till to-morrow?” reflected Miss Em, 
as she surveyed it, scissors in hand. “I might 
hear from Lady Pat next post, unless she’s ill. 
Gracious, 1 hope she’s not! I’ll go round and 
see Mrs. MacShamus this afternoon. Maybe 
she’ll: have heard something, but I mustn’t show 
I’m anxious. I wonder if the Castle Lustrell 
people are going? That’s to say Molly and that 
old harridan, Miss Lustrell. No fear of Sir Jas- 
per stirring out of his shell. That old maid 
watches him like a cat. I believe she’s afraid 
he’ll marry again. I wonder if it’s in his head 
at all. I delcare I wouldn’t mind taking him 
myself if I thought he’d die in a twelvemonth!” 

A smile hovered over her lips as if the idea 
were infinitely amusing. She began to fold up 
the dresses and replace them in their various 
receptacles. But however long she lingered over 
the occupation the time passed very slowly. 
There was no use in going out before luncheon 
and — 

Her thoughts were cut short by a tap at the 
door. She opened it, expecting to see her step- 


48 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


mother, but found herself confronted by the red- 
faced, red - armed abigail who was Quinlan’s 
“under help,” and did all the rough work of 
the establishment. 

“Somethin’ for you, miss;-” she said with a 
broad grin, and holding out a 3^ellow paper with 
the corner of her coarse apron. “The bhoy came 
up to the front door as I was washing down the 
steps, so I brought it up straight. He’s after 
asking sixpence for his trouble.” 

“Here, give him this,” cried Miss Em, thrust- 
ing some loose coppers into the girl’s wet palm, 
and, closing the door again, she hastily tore open 
the envelope and glanced at the message. Then 
her whole face grew radiant. 

“Hurrah! I thought she wouldn’t fail me, 
bless her, dear old soul!” 

“Your letter just forwarded. Am staying at 
the Gresham. Delighted to have j^ou. Will en- 
gage room for Tuesclaj’. Ain writing. 

“Moira.” 

She read this aloud from sheer inability to keep 
it to herself, and literall}" danced to and fro, wav- 
ing it above her head. Then suddenl}^ she thrust 
the paper into her pocket and seizing a pair of 
scissors commenced a ruthless cutting and unrip- 
ping of the black satin bodice which was destined 
to transform it into an evening one. 

Time passed swiftlj' enough now- while Miss 
Em’s busy fingers were at work, and her thoughts, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


49 


to judge from her face, were of a pleasanter nat- 
ure than they had been an hour before. 

The luncheon bell had just rung wheh she 
heard the sound of wheels in the avenue, followed 
by a loud ring at the front door. She started to 
her feet. ‘‘Grood gracious! I hope it’s not visi- 
tors, such a sight as I am, too!” 

A hurried survey of her appearance in the 
glass only confirmed that fact. An old shabby 
morning-gown and disheveled hair are not cal- 
culated to enhance the post-meridian charms of 
any woman. 

“Whoever it is I can’t see them, Quinlan,” 
cried Miss Em, protestingly, as the door opened 
to admit the old woman. 

“Wisha, don’t be after throubling yourself, 
’tis only a bit of a letter the doctor left for you,” 
said Quinlan, handing her the missive; “and I 
was to tell you luncheon was on the table, and 
th85^’re waiting; shure ’tis a grand name to be 
giving to purtaties, and bread and cheese and 
scraps.” 

“Oh! for a good pint of champagne, Quinny,” 
cried Miss Em, with a little gasp. “I’m just dy- 
ing for it, and I know there’s lots in the cellar; 
only I suppose Mrs. O’Hara would sooner let it 
burst its own bottles than give any one a drop.” 

She had opened her letter while speaking, and 
glanced rapidly over a page of Mrs. MacSharnus’s 
stiff, prim writing. 

“Dear Miss Em — The two Barrington girls 
have come over; Minnie was nearly dead with 


50 


/ 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the toothache and the doctor had to extract the 
cause of suffering. Oharley Warren, their cousin, 
a nice young fellow, came with them and they’re 
staying till about eight or nine to-night. So, 
my dear, will you drop in to a high tea about 
six o’clock? I promise some of your favorite 
cakes. I’ve a lot of news for you. 

‘ ‘ Y ours most affectionately, 

“Theresa MacShamus. 

“P.S. — Come as early as you wish.” 

“Gracious, Quinny!” cried Miss Em; “it 
never rains but it pours. ’Tis an invitation 
from Mrs. MacShamus for to-night; so if the 
luncheon’s bad,” she added, laughingly, as she 
turned to leave the room, “I’ll have one good 
meal to-day.” 

With her hand on the door she paused and 
looked back at the old woman. Then suddenly 
approached and whispered warningly: “Z)on’^ 
forget the keys.^^ 

A sly look came into Quinlan’s eyes. “Trust 
me, my dear!” she said with answering caution. 
“And now hurry down or they’ll be wondering 
what we’re about.” 

Miss Em ran down the stairs as lightly as a 
girl. She was in wild spirits once more. The 
sort of mood that meant mischievous possibili- 
ties, and gave a tinge of excitement even to an 
existence utterly antagonistic. 

Her stepmother could not understand the 
change, or read any satisfactory meaning for 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


51 


it in Mrs. MacShamus’s note which Miss Em 
tendered as explanation. She had determined 
liot to explode the Dublin mystery until she had 
received Lady Pat's letter. 

“I’m sure there’s nothing to get excited about 
in being asked to a tea-party, ” said Mrs. O’Hara, 
sourly. “And those Barrington girls are the 
most stuck-up and conceited creatures one could 
msh to meet. They may have birth, but I don’t 
know where the breeding comes in.” 

“I’ve heard them make the same remark about 
— you,” said Miss Em, helping herself to pota- 
toes. “Isn’t there any beer?” she asked, glanc 
ing discontentedly at the glass jug of water by 
her side. 

“We’re just out of it,” snapped Mrs. O’Hara, 
ignoring the first part of the speech. 

“It’s very odd, but you’re always ‘just out’ of 
everything decent in the eating and drinking line 
when I chance to come home,” said Miss Em. 
“Things were very different under my manage- 
ment. Carrig-duve did not boast then of empty 
larder and cellars.” 

“Probably not,” retorted Mrs. O’Hara; “but 
it boasted of stacks of unpaid bills, and was a 
by- word for waste and extravagance. ’ ’ 

“You can hardly be expected to judge of Irish 
hospitality,” observed Miss Em, coolly. “I’ve 
always noticed that the middle-class society of 
England are very mean. It is their notion of 
economy.” 

“If the middle class or any class in Ireland 
had a little of the English thrift and prudence, 


52 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


/ 


the country wouldn’t be m its present disgrace- 
ful state.” ^ 

“ We’d be well enough if your country wouldn’t 
meddle with us,” answered Miss Em, sharply. 
She was always patriotic in any controversy of 
this nature. “You can’t understand us either 
as a nation or as individuals, The whole coun- 
try’s gone to wreck and ruin since ever it gave 
in to the Saxon rule.” 

“I should think the ‘Saxon rule,’ as you call 
it, had a sorry bargain,” sneered Mrs. O’Hara, 
“A nation of beggars who are too proud to work, 
and seem only bent on their own destruction! 
Who don’t even show common gratitude for 
what’s done for them, and are as cowardly as 
they’re impecunious.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” 
said Miss Em, contei^ptuously. “To judge of a 
people you must study race, language, traditions, 
and laws. An Englishman’s ideas of Ireland 
are as narrow and bigoted as his own social preju- 
dices. Pride of birth and nobility of origin are 
as nothing to him in comparison with a banking 
account at Coutts’s or a ‘business in the city.’ 
But neither gold nor broadcloth will ever master 
us, or make us plead what you term ‘inferiority.’ ’’ 

“Oh, I know it’s waste of breath to argue with 
an Irish person,” said Mrs. O’Hara, loftily. 
“You’re all as obstinate as your favorite pigs 
and as unreasonable as children. It would be 
a good day for England if she could wash her 
hands of you entirely, only you’re so untrust- 
worthy that you can’t be left alone!” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


53 


She rose abruptly, as if to end the discussion. 
Miss Em turned to her father, who had been a 
silent listener. 

“I wonder,” she said, wrathfully, “that the 
O'EIaras don’t turn in their graves! To think 
that the last of their name should sit there silent, 
letting himself be insulted at his own table by an 
English alien!” 

“My dear Emilia,” said the old man, meekly, 
“let us hope the O’Haras are better employed 
than in paying the least attention to an illogical 
discussion, the like of which they have shared 
in a hundred times with a similar result— loss of 
temper and waste of breath. When the lion lies 
down with the lamb, then may England and Ire- 
land agree over a system of government, or clasp 
hands in mutual deference to each other’s opin- “ 
ion.” 


64 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE BARRINGTON GIRLS. 

“I’m not going to let myself down before those 
Barrington girls,” said Miss Em to herself as 
she began her afternoon toilet. “I’ve not aired 
that Bond Street costume here yet ; one walk down 
the avenue is enough to destroy the tail of any 
gown unless it was lined with leather, but I’ll 
really venture it to-day. It’ll go hard with them 
to beat that, though they do get their dresses 
from London.” 

She was not far wrong; for the dark tweed 
skirt and coat headed by a plain black hat with 
one good ostrich feather curling rotlnd the brim, 
made her look stylish enough to face more formid- 
able rivals than Mrs.' MacShamus’s nieces. 

“It’s too early to show myself yet; where caii 
I go in the meantime?” thought Miss Em, as 
she was drawing on her gloves and surveying her 
appearance with intense satisfaction as reflected 
by the glass. “Oh! I know; I’ll go and see old 
Biddy Lynch in the village and take her some 
tea. Poor old soul! I haven’t been there since 
I came home at Christmas. I wonder if I could 
spare her some money?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


55 


She looked over her store of loose silver and 
selected two half-crowns from among it, which 
she wrapped in paper and put into her pocket. 
Then with one niore glance at herself she took 
up a neat umbrella, a Christmas present from 
Lady Pat, and sailed majestically down the 
stairs. She paused a momenta at the dining- 
room door to look in and inform her stepmother 
she “wouldn’t be late,^’ which information was 
received with a grunt. But Mrs. O’Hara’s eyes 
had taken in every detail of her appearance, and 
it formed a fine text for extravagance when she 
was left alone with her husband. 

The delivery of the tea and the inevitable gossip 
with old Biddy, who had been a servant at Car- 
rig-duve in the time of the first Mrs. O’Hara, 
brought it close to five o’clock when Miss Em 
entered the doctor’s house. 

The hall was lighted, and a warm glow of fire 
and lamps streamed from the open door of the 
dining-room. A savory odor of cakes, hot bread, 
and other good things signified that preparations 
for tea were already under way. 

Mrs. MacShamus came out into the hall when 
she heard Miss Em’s voice, a shawl trailing be- 
hind her as it had slipped from her shoulders, 
her ordinarily placid face flushed and worried- 
looking. 

“Oh, my dear, I’m so glad to see you!” she 
exclaimed in a nervous whisper almost bordering 
on tearfulness. “I’m tired to death of them,” 
with a glance at the closed drawing-room door; 
“they’re worse than ever. I don’t know what 


56 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


to do to amuse them. ’Tis nothing but ‘yes’ and 
‘no,’ and spiteful hints at everybody; and the 
doctor took their cousin off with him, so it’s been 
all oil my shoulders.” 

“You poor old dear!” cried Miss Em, kissing 
her affectionately ; ‘ ‘ what a time you must have 
had! Well, I’ll take them off your hands now, 
though, faitii, 1 feel more like shocking them 
than entertaining themj and that’s the truth.” 

“Will you take off your hat?” asked Mrs. 
MacShamus. “Why, dear me, how very smart 
you are to-day!” 

“And why wouldn’t I be coming to m«et the 
grand Miss Barringtons?” 

“They’re only in their old purple merinoes,” 
said Mrs. MacShamus, with an admiring survey 
of the stylish tweed costume and becoming hat. 
“My dear, you look twenty years younger than 
they do, and with fifty times the style about 
you.” 

Miss Em laughed softly. “Then I’ll go in 
and face them on the strength of that pretty 
speech,” she said. “If you’ve anything else to 
do, Mrs. MacShamus, don’t be standing on cere- 
mony. I’ll entertain them, I promise you.” 

She walked straight into the drawing-room 
without further prelude. It was occupied by 
two girls, sisters evidently from the likeness, 
which was further emphasized by their always 
dressing alike. 

The eldest, Minnie, was reclining on an arm- 
chair by the fire, with her head propped by cush- 
ions. The youngest, Laura,. sat a little distance 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


57 


ofif, prim, precise, a,nd dignified. Miss Em took 
in the scene with one rapid glance, and placed 
her lance in rest. 

“How d’ye do, Miss Barrington? How are 
you, Miss Laura? Sorry to hear about the tooth- 
ache, so unbecoming, and then to'lose it. Not a 
front one, 1 hope?” 

Miss Barrington lifted her head and extended 
a languid hand in greeting. 

“No; I was spared that misfortune. Dear 
me, what an age it is since we met. Miss O’Hara ! 
You’ve been away, 1 hear; visiting, as usual, I 
suppose?” 

“Yes,” said Miss Em; “I’ve been in London 
and in Yorkshire both,” and she seated herself 
where the light would do justice to her figure 
and costume. 

“Do you propose making a long stay here?” 
asked the other sister. 

“No,” said Miss Em, shortly. “I’m going lio 
Dublin next week.” 

“To Dublin !” The sisters exchanged glances.- 
Despite their advantages of race and blood, the 
Barringtons were as impecunious as most old 
Irish families, and a season in the brilliant little 
capital was a rare event for them. 

“Yes, Lady Patricia Moira has invited me 
again. She’s my godmother, you know,' and 
having no children of her own—” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” interrupted Miss Barring- 
ton. “She’s ver^ eccentric, isn’t she? Likes 
to have all sorts of odd people about her, actresses 
and singers and writers? At least, I’ve heard so. ’ ’ 


58 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“She likes to associate with clever and amus- 
ing people,” said Miss Em, “if that’s being eccen- 
tric. Her own birth and position are top irre- 
proachable for the scruples of less fortunate people 
to affect her choice of society.” 

Miss Em’s spirits were rising. Female an- 
tagonists were not new to her, and she dearly 
loved what she termed “a brush with the tongue. ’ ’ 

“People differ so much as to their views of 
society,” answered the fair Minnie, languidly. 
“There are those Kellys now, of whom every 
one’s talking. Goodness knows how old Kell}^ 
has made his money ; but 1 hear no one in Dub- 
lin can entertain as they do, and that they’ve 
got the Lord Lieutenant to go to their ball next 
week. 1 suppose you’ll be there, Miss O’Hara?” 

“Certainly,” said Miss Em, mendaciously; 
“I’m going with Lady Pat’s party. ’Tis to be 
a most brilliant affair; all the flowers are com- 
ing from Covent Garden ; and as for the supper, 
not the Viceregal Lodge itself has ever given 
such an order!” 

Miss Barrington fidgeted among her cushions. 
Kews like this was gall and wormwood to her. 
She was getting on in years, and her good looks 
would soon be as traditional as other records of 
the Barrington family. What was the use of 
being “well brought up” and accomplished and 
of unexceptionable lineage if one was condemned 
to stagnate in a remote Irish county, seeing the 
same people and doing the same things from 
year’s end to year’s end? And there was Miss 
Em, a good fifteen or sixteen years older than 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


59 


herself, getting twice as much fun and amuse- 
meat out of life. It was enough to sour the 
sweetest temper to think how badly Fate arranged 
things sometimes ! 

“How well she’s dressed, and how well she 
wears !” so ran her thoughts as she glanced from 
under lowered eyelids at the beautifully cut gown 
and animated face which the becoming glow of 
firelight and lamplight revealed at their best. 
Miss Barrington was aggravatingly conscious 
that she herself was very far from being at “her 
best” this special afternoon. Toothache and an 
unbecoming gown were disadvantages against 
which even forty years of age in a Bond Street 
cosfume might hold their own triumphantly, and 
proud Miss Barrington’s wrath grew apace at 
the entrance of the doctor. Paddy Kearney and 
her own good-looking young cousin drew forth 
all Miss Em’s weapons of subjugation, and left 
herself and her sister quite “out in the cold.” 

Certainly Miss Em was at her best to-day. 
The reaction from disappointment to certainty 
had set her mercurial spirits up to fever point. 
Besides, the consciousness of being well-dressed 
is an eminent source of satisfaction to a woman, 
and will give her more confidence than the pos- 
session of all the virtues. 

Tea was at last announced as ready by the 
neat parlor-maid, and the party filed in to the 
cozy dining-room with a sense of good things 
coming that was speedily verified by the delica- 
cies provided. - The Miss Barringtons’ languid 
airs and perpetual sneers were not provocative 


60 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


of admiration, and even their tolerant cousin 
showed an open preference for Miss Em’s gay 
sallies and unfailing good- humor. 

Irish conversation has always a strong ‘‘per- 
sonal” tendency, and deals chiefly with human 
interests and affairs. It is essentially of the 
world and the society in which the speakers 
move and live. Gossip maintains its own in all 
circles alike, and there is deeper interest mani- 
fested in what is “said and done” than in what 
is thought or written. 

No one who has lived long among Irish people 
can fail to note the strong element of curiosity that 
pervades their conversation, and seems the mo- 
tive power of any intimacy. Deeds and events 
may be agitating the rest of the world, but the 
fact of Mrs. MacCarthy’s twins, the rumor of 
Lord So-and-so’s wife’s elopement, or some sole- 
cism in dress or manners perpetrated by a^ near 
neighbor, will interest a circle of Irish folk far^ 
more than the changes of politics, or triumphs of 
literature and art. 

Miss Em always took care to be well grounded, 
in the subjects of the day, even if she did not 
care about them ; but she took equal care to sui t 
her conversation to her surroundings, and Mrs. 
MacShamus and even the worthy doctor dearly 
loved a gossip. 

“1 was almost forgetting my grand bit of 
news!” exclaimed the old lady as she handed 
Miss Em a second cup of tea. “Who do you 
think is going to Dublin to-morrow for the sea- 
son?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


61 


“You may just as well say it first as last, 
Theresa, ’ ’ said the doctori ‘ ‘ Miss Em’s not likely 
to guess in a hurry.” 

“The Lustrells, every one of them! Think of 
that, my dear!” cried Mrs. MacShamus, tri- 
umphantly. 

“What, Sir Jasper, too!” exclaimed Miss Em. 

“Indeed, yes. Ask Paddy there if he isn’t. 
’Twas he told us. Perhaps ’tis on his daugh- 
ter’s account. They’ll be wanting her to make 
a good match, seeing she’s an only child.” 

“Is she really so pretty? I’ve hardly seen 
her,” murmured Miss Barrington, languidly, as 
she accepted a soda scone from the plate Captain 
Kearney offered. 

“Pretty? She’s perfectly lovely !” cried Miss 
Em, enthusiastically. “And so accomplished 
too! Why, she’s been finished in Paris. She’ll 
make a sensation when she comes out, I’ll war- 
rant. P wonder,” she added, suddenly, “are 
they going to the Kellys’ ball?” 

She glanced at Captain Kearney, sitting calm 
and apparently unconcerned opposite to her. 

'^“That’s more than I can say,” he answered, 
meeting her eye. “My uncle is not a very com- 
municative person.” 

“’Tis a long time since I’ve seen him,” said 
Miss Em, thoughtfully. 

“You must look out that he doesn’t pick up a 
wife in Dublin, Paddy,” said the doctor. “That 
would be putting j^our nose out of joint for 
you.” 

“There’s no fear of that, he’s too much of a 


62 - PEG, THE RAKE. 

woman-hater,” said the captain, indifferently; 
“and much too old,” he added. 

“Old, is it?” laughed the doctor. “Sir Jas- 
per's a good sound score of years before him, I 
can tell you. Those thin, wir}^ bloodless- 
looking men would wear out two of such 
rollicking devils as j^ou and your friend, Char- 
ley Raikes.” 

“Is Major Raikes here?” exclaimed Miss Bar- 
rington, with the first symptom of animation she 
had shown. 

‘ ‘ He is, ’ ^ said Paddy Kearney. ‘ ‘ He was stay- 
ing with the J ohnsons for a fortnight, but his 
leave is up the same time as my own. We’re 
both going back to Dublin early next week. Miss 
Em,” and he turned pointedly to her, “you 
mustn’t forget your promise. I’ll secure a 
carriage, and you and I and Raikes will 
travel together. You go by the express, 1 
suppose?” 

“Indeed, yes, if that’s your train,” said Miss 
Em, joyfully. 

“And mind,” he continued, “that you’re, 
booked to me for the first waltz, so be punct- 
ual.” ^ 

“Gracious!” thought Miss Em, “engaging 
myself for a dance at a ball where I’m not even 
invited. Mais Vaudace, Vaudace^ toujours 
Vaiidace, Nothing venture, nothing win.” 

Aloud she answered: “Paddy, you ought to 
know that whatever else I may be late for, I 
never miss a dance; but, my gallant captain, 
you take care that you’re up to time, or a forfeit 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


63 


of half a dozen pairs of gloves — Supple’s, mind, 
1 never wear any others— six nnd a half and four 
buttons.” 

“I’ll be there to the moment if I’m alive,” he 
replied, solemnly, and producing a note- book he 
proceeded to make an entry. 

“Paddy,” she said, reproachfully, “couldn’t 
you remember an appointment with me without 
making a note of it?” 

“It’s not the appointment,” he answered, em- 
phatically, “but 1 know you’re particular about 
the fit of your gloves.” 

“That sounds rather as if you were preparing 
to pay the forfeit,” interrupted the eldest Miss 
Barrington, with an affected laugh. The inter- 
change of badinage had tried her temper con- 
siderably. ' “I suppose she’s conceited enough to 
swallow all that,” she ’added in a lower key to 
her cousin. “At her age to be flirting and danc- 
ing, and going on like a schoolgirl ! Disgusting, 
I call it!” 

“Miss Barrington,” rang out Miss Em’s clear 
tones at this moment, “what has become of that 
curate who was here last Christmas time? You 
know who I mean, Reverend George — George — 
Oh ! I can’t remember his name — but he wore a 
Noah’s-ark coat and talked with a whine, and 
always held his hands 50.” 

She exemplified the action of finger-tip to fin- 
ger-tip, and sanctimonious expression with such 
admirable -mimicry that every one laughed. 
Every one with the exception of Miss Barring- 
ton, whose tendencies were strongly ritualistic, 


64 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


and in whose face amazement and wrath were 
struggling for adequate expression. 

“1 consider it very improper to jest on sacred 
subjects,” she said at last, v/hen the laughter 
had subsided. 

“Is the Reverend George a sacred subject?” 
asked Miss Em, innocently. “I’m sure if he is, 
I beg your pardon. Have they made a dean or 
a bishop of him? His talents were quite thrown 
away here.” 

“You’re certainly right there,” answered the 
fair Minnie, savagely, “No one was capable of 
understanding him, and all his efforts at improv 
ing our services and elevating the general tone 
of worship at St. Michael’s were quite wasted on 
an unappreciative congregation.” 

“Dear me, how very sad!” murmured Miss 
Em, sympathetically. “But you always went 
to week-day services, Miss Barrington, and I re- 
member how generous you were about flowers 
for the decorations. Do you still dress the church 
for festivals^’ 

Miss Barrington’s face grew crimson. It was 
humiliating to confess that with the departure of 
the Rev^erend George Crozier her enthusiasm 
/ had faded, and her attendance at week day 
services become somewhat irregular. She cast 
about in her mind for something with which 
to retort upon her foe, but she could think of 
nothing till her sister came to her aid with the 
remark : 

“We all thought it was quite a case between 
you and him. Miss O’Hara. He left soon after 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


65 


you did and went to Ijondon. Why, we were 
all looking out for wedding cards!” 

Miss Em laughed with unabated good' humor. 
Speeches like this only amused her. Feminine 
spite was so evident, and so wasted on one who 
had learned from life at least one grand lesson — 
never to show the wound, however true the shot. 

“Wedding cards, is it?” here interposed the 
doctor. “I’ll go bail that when Miss Em does 
change her name it will be for a better one than 
that of a weedy parson.” 

“If you allude to Mr. Crozier, uncle,” answered 
Miss Barrington, with stately dignity, “I beg to 
inform you that he was of unexceptionable line- 
age.” 

“Maybe that’s true enough; but you wouldn’t 
be expecting a fine woman like Miss Em to fall 
in love with him. She’s mighty hard to please, 
I can tell you. Eh, Miss Em?” 

“ ‘Faith, she melted the hearts of the swains in 
them parts,’ ” quoted Paddy Kearney. 

Miss Em looked significantly at Mrs. Mac- 
Shamus, as a hint to leave the table. She did 
not relish personal allusions. 

“How time flies!” she murmured, as a gen- 
eral move followed the signal for drawing-room 
adjournment. Her glance rested dreamily on 
Miss Barrington’s sharp features as if to empha- 
size her words. “Love, beauty, youth, how soon 
they go!” 

“We must be going now, auntie dear,” said 
Laura Barrington, turning to the old lady. 
“You know we’ve a long drive before us.” 


66 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Couldn’t ybu stay for a game at cards?” 
asked her aunt. “’Twill be no darker at nine 
o’clock than it is now, and we’re just a nice 
party for a round game.” 

“Oh, no, 1 couldn’t think of it,” interposed 
Minnie. “You’re such terrible gamblers here,” 
she added with an affected laugh; “and we 
never go beyond penny points, you know. ’ ’ 

“Well, it shall be penny points if you’ll stay,” 
chimed in the doctor. “I’m agreeable to any- 
thing.” 

But Miss Barrington was inexorable; Miss 
Em’s well known predilection for cards prompted 
her to fulfill the agreeable duty of disappointing 
any expectation of a game that evening. 

She drew her sister’s arm within her own as 
they all stood at the foot of the stairs and marched 
her off to put on hats and wraps. The movement 
was decided. Mrs. MacShamus followed them 
meekly; and the handsome cousin, proclaiming 
loudly his disappointment at being dragged, off 
sans ceremonie^ lingered devotedly round Miss 
Em and wished his autocratic relatives at J ericho. 

“You’ll stay for a rubber, at all events?” said 
the doctor, patting her arm as he held out a 
cigar-case to the young , men. “1 promised for 
you to Paddy when I met him. AVe’ll send you 
home all riglit, for I’ve to pay a last visit to a 
patient in the village who’s down with fever.” 

“I’ll be delighted,” she said readily, her eyes 
sparkling with prospective enjoyment, adding, 
in a stage whisper, “Not _pe?i7i2/ points, I hope, 
doctor?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


67 


“Faith no,’’ he said, laughing. “Milk for 
babes is all very well, but we like stronger diet, 
eh. Miss Em?” 

She made no answer. She was gaziug out 
through the now opened hall door into the chill 
winter night. 

The light flickered on .the waiting “jingle” 
and its shabby driver. The shrubs that bordered 
the drive loomed black and shadowy in the 
gloom. 

Miss Em suddenly shivered and drew back. 

“I feel as if some one was walking over my 
grave,” she said, and turned away from the cold 
pulseless night into the warmth and comfort of 
the house. 


68 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ When shadows seemed omens.” 

It almost seemed as if with the exodus of the 
Barringtons and their escort Miss Em’s high 
spirits had also departed. She scarcely noticed 
the doctor’s sallies, and even once forgot to re- 
turn her partner’s lead, a solecism almost un- 
precedented in her career as a whist player. 

“Are you thinking of your ball-dress, Miss 
Em?” asked Dr. MacShamus, glancing with 
some wonder at her grave face. “Don’t we all 
know you’ll look beautiful whatever you wear?” 

“You’ll be having a new dress, of course, my 
dear?” interpolated Mrs. MacShamus, rousing 
up with inherent feminine interest at the men- 
tion of millinery. 

“No,” said Miss Em curtly; “I shall wear 
black satin and diamonds.” 

“Ah, your poor mother’s jewels; and beauti- 
ful they are, fit for the queen herself,” said the 
old lady. “I wish 1 could be there to see you.” 

“And so your uncle and cousin are reall}^ go- 
ing to Dublin, Padd}"?” said Miss Em, rousing 
herself with an effort. “I hope we shall meet.” 

“Sure to,” said Captain Kearney. “They’re 


PEG, THE RAKE. 69 

putting up at the Gresham at first. I don’t 
know whether they mean to take a house later 
on. I’m inclined to think it’s a dodge of Aunt 
Sabina’s; it will save the trouble and expense of 
entertaining.” 

“Ah!” sighed Mrs. MacShamus; “the castle’s 
very different since she became mistress. It’s 
to be hoped she won’t influence Sir Jasper and 
make him like herself. I pity that poor girl 
with all my heart — your trick again, Miss Em, 
dear — what luck you have!” ' 

“ ‘Lucky at cards, unlucky in love,’ you know 
the proverb,” said the doctor, surveying his own 
hand with marked discontent. 

“What makes you talk so much about love, 
-this -evening?” asked Miss Em, with a flash of 
the dark gray eyes that were still her strong 
point. “I thought you didn’t believe in it. 
Haven’t I heard you say it’s a species of cere- 
bral affection, and should be treated as a brain 
fever, or any other physical ailment?” 

“Allowed to run its course, eh? and then 
taken in hand. Not a bad method, doctor,” 
laughed the young captain. 

“It’s a decree of nature,” said Dr. MacShamus 
authoritatively, “that makes a man love all 
women, and vice vemd. The choice of one in 
particular is but an accident, for which circum- 
^ stances, or opportunity, are responsible.^’ 

“You don’t believe in the ‘affinity’ of natures 
or hearts then?” 

“Divilabit! I’ve seen too much of life and 
marriage for that. Doctors and lawyers get 


70 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


behind the scenes, youv know ; the world at large 
only Sees the way they’re set, and the effect of 
the limelight. On the whole, I’m sorrier for 
women than for men. They fall in love with the 
ideal, but they’ve to marry the an, and it’s a 
poor bargain they get with even the best of us. 
Marriage doesn’t enchant for long, though love 
maj^. ’ ’ 

‘M’m sure, Jerry^ we^ve been very happy and 
comfortable,” said his wife plaintively. “A 
great deal depends on women themselves. I’ve 
knov/n quite as many bad wives as bad hus- 
bands. ’ ’ 

“And don’t you think that men have illusions 
and ideals too?” asked Paddy Kearney, scoring 
the odd trick, and marking the game to himself 
and partner. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! we all set out in life with a great deal of 
useless baggage,” answered the doctor. “When 
the miles and the pace begin to tell, we drop 
it by degrees. ’Tis hard to part with some of 
it, but the loss brings so much comfort that at 
last we wonder why we ever took up such a 
burden.” 

“The longer one lives,” said Miss ^m with 
some bitterness, “the more one wonders at the 
uselessness of life; what, does it amount to at 
best? A. little pleasure, a great deal of suffer- 
ing, schemes, hopes, ambitions, disillusions ; 
then, the same end for all, and beyond that 
who can say? If only there were no ‘after- 
ward’ one might get some enjoyment out of 
existence; as it is — ” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


?1 


She shrugged her shoulders, and began to deal 
with rapid dexterous fingers. 

The doctor looked at her critically. He scarce- 
ly knew what to make of her in this' mood. 

“Indeed, you’re right about the ‘afterward,’ 
Miss Em, ” said Paddy Kearney. “Why, there’s 
not a single pleasure, feeling, passion, or pursuit 
that that little word doesn’t spoil for us.” 

“ ’Tis only the natural reaction of the moral 
nature,” said the doctor. “Not finding the sat- 
isfaction it sought or imagined, it rebels against 
temporary enslavement. We’re all bent on fight- 
ing the ‘angel’ within us, because the devil offers 
us a more attractive bargain.” 

“Jerry, my dear appealed Mrs. MacShamus, 
in shocked accents. 

He leaned forward and patted the wrinkled old 
hand that lay on the card table. 

- “Never mind, Theresa,” he said; “the old 
gentleman never could have had anything to say 
to you, so you needn’t be troubling your head 
about his bargains. ’ ’ 

What was the expression in Miss Em’s face as 
she looked at the placid brow, the soft white 
hair, the kindly eyes whose luster though dimmed 
was yet replaced by a sweeter light than that of 
youth? Envy, regret, wonder? Something of 
all these. They could never be hers, she knew. 
Perhaps the spirit which had so bravely met or 
defied the storms of life was beginning to flag 
under repeated battles, and recognized at last 
that there might be something better in peace 
than strife, in content than turmoil, in the quiet 


72 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


stagnatioii of the haven rather than the restless 
sea beyond. 

The depression of this mood la-sted despite her 
efforts to appear her usual rattling, brilliant 
self. 

“I hope nothing is going to happen,’^ she 
thought, as she left the doctor’s house an hour 
later, under the joint escort of himself and Cap- 
tain Kearney. “ ’Tis very odd I should feel as 
if something was hanging over me; misfortune 
or trouble. Yet, I can’t see what I’m to fear 
now.” 

She made a vigorous endeavor to emulate her 
companions’ gayety, and succeeded well enough 
to deceive them. A woman might have detected 
a false ring in the laughter, an effort in the per- 
petual flow of badinage; but men are less keen 
of observation, and as a rule accept the opposite 
sex very much as they show themselves. 

The straggling ill-lighted village street was 
almost deserted. Above it the dark clouds low- 
ered, heavy with rain and starless. 

It was a poor imsavoiy place at best — ill- 
drained, ill-paved, an eloquent advertisement of 
the poverty, thriftlessness and discontent which 
are so thoroughly characteristic of the Irish 
lower orders. 

As far back as Miss Em could recollect it had 
presented* the same aspect, and probably would 
continue to do so even when a new generation 
replaced the present. What is nobody’s business 
in particular seldom makes any loud demand on 
popular attention. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


73 


“Who is your patient, doctor?” asked Miss 
Em as they passed the cabins and little huck- 
sters’ shops that made up the village. 

“Old Pat Mahoney at the inn,” he answered. 
“And here we’re at it. Paddy will take care of 
you the rest of the way. Miss Em; and don’t 
you be running off to Dublin without saying 
good-by to us, or there’ll be ructions.” 

“Oh, don’t fear but I’ll see you often enoi^h 
between this and then,” said Miss Em, in her 
clear ringing tpnes. 

Her voice fell on the ear of a man who was 
just leaving the public house. As if struck by 
something familiar in it, he stopped and looked 
eagerly at the little party. The light fell full on 
his face, and revealed him perfectly to all three. 
The doctor’s eyes turned involuntarily to Miss 
Em. No mask could have looked more impas- 
sively unconscious than her face. Not so his 
own ; astonishment plainly struggled with recog- 
nition, and he answered the stranger’s nod with 
a half involuntary “Good-night.” 

Miss Em took Captain Kearney’s arm and 
passed on. 

“Who was that?” asked Paddy, when they 
were well out of earshot. “A stranger, I fancy. 
I don’t remember seeing him before. He looked 
as if the v/orld hadn’t dealt over well with 
him ” 

“Did he?” said Miss Em indifferently. “I 
suppose he’s come over to see some relations. 
He looked like a sailor.” 

Then she changed the subject abruptly, and 


74 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the incident soon slipped from Paddy Kearney’s 
memory. 

There was no need for the side entrance to- 
night, neither did the old house present such a 
gloomy appearance as on the last occasion. Miss 
Em found her father and his wife still sitting 
over the fire in the large and gloomy dining- 
room. The old man looking pinched and feeble ; 
Mrs. O’Hara’s "Shriveled fingers were busy over 
a gray worsted stocking she was knitting. 

Contrary to her usual habits'. Miss Em lingered 
in the room until they both retired for the night, 
and even seemed to find something interesting in 
the locking of doors and cupboards, and the final 
extinguishing of lights. There was something 
strange and self-absorbed about her whole man- 
ner, but Mrs. O’Hara was not a keen observer, 
save in matters respecting domestic economy,, or 
servants’ peculations, and made no comment on 
her stepdaughter’s unusual gravity. 

An hour later, when the whole house was 
hushed and silent, Quinlan, who slept down- 
stairs in a small room off the pantry, was 
aroused by a timid knock at her door. Then 
the handle was softly turned, and a white scared 
face looked in. 

‘‘You’re not in bed, Quinny? I thought so.” 

“Gracious, Miss Peg darlint, what’s the mat- 
ter?” asked the old woman. “You look as 
white as the driven snow! Och, alannah! is it 
a ghost you’ve seen? Why, you’re shaking like 
the trembling grass!” 


PEG^ THE RAKE. 


“Quinny!” gasped Miss Em hysterically; 
“have you heard — has any one told you that 
— that lie^ s back?” 

Who are you manin’, darlint? ’Tis 
nothing I’ve heard this day, though Mary Buck- 
ley was up from the village; but shure, she kept 
her mouth as tight as an oyster. But meself 
' knew something was goin’ to happen, for we’d a 
bit of the cards to pass the time, and may I be a 
corpse this blessed night if "‘the marriage card 
didn’t turn up to you three times. 

“Marriage!” Miss Em’s face looked gray and 
hard in the dim candle-light. “ISTo, no, Quin- 
lan! I must not think of that. Ghost? Yes, 
3mu’re right. It is a ghost I’ve seen; the ghost 
of my past youth, my past folly. There’ll be no 
marriage lines for me, Quinny, but those its 
hand has penned.” 

There was something so sad and so desperate 
in her face that the old nurse looked at her in 
alarm. 

“There, there, darlint, you’re a bit upset,” 
she said soothingly. “Jyist you sit down and 
wait a minute, I’ll fetch you something that will 
do you good.” 

She drew Miss Em down on to the low truckle 
bed, and lighted another candle with which she 
left the room. In a few moments she returned 
with a tray containing an old-fashioned goblet, a 
bottle half full of whisky, and another of water. 

“There!” she exclaimed triumphantly, as she 
deposited them on the table and proceeded to 
mix a bumper, which she thrust into Miss Em’s 


76 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


trembling hand; ‘‘drink that down now, ivery 
dhrop of it. ’Twill pull you together, and then 
you shall tell me what’s after upsetting you. 
That’s right — as good as champagne, eh, dar- 
lint?” 

Miss Em gave her back the empty glass with 
a sigh of content. The color had come back to 
her face and the light to her eyes. She drew the 
folds of her dressing-gown more closely round 
her and signed to the old woman to take a seat 
by her side. 

“I feel worlds better, Quinny. But now, fol- 
low me. It is a fact what 1 said just now. I 
was coming home through the village with the 
doctor and Captain Kearney, and as we passed 
the public house who should step out but — Denis 
Morrison!” 

“Not old Morrison’s son? Shure, darlint, ’tis 
dramin’ ye ware!” 

“No, Quinny, I wish to Heaven I had been. 
He has come hack. After all these years we 
stood face to fa'ce again.” 

“What did you do, Miss Peg?” asked the old 
nurse, timidly. 

“Nothing,” she answered, drearily. “I don’t 
suppose he knew me. How could he? There’s 
not much likeness to the girl of twenty years ago 
in this face, Quinny.” 

She glanced at it in the old cracked mirror 
above the fireplace. Its response to that appeal 
was, to say the least, unflattering. 

“Oh, why doesn’t one’s heart get old? why 
doesn’t one forget?” she cried with sudden bit- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 77 

terness. “Look at my life, look at these years, 
look at and yet I’ve never forgot-ten; I’ve 
never cared for any man living since that time.” 

The old woman surveyed her compassionately 
as she sat huddled up on ttiQ bed, staring with 
unmeaning eyes at an unflattering vision. Hear- 
ing all the cold, unpalatable truths of mifldle- 
age in the echoes of “long ago.” Surely a 
sorrier and more pathetic sight than the aban- 
donment of youth, or the^ery grief whose vio- 
lence is often exceeded by its brevity. 

‘ ‘ Don’t look like that, honey !” entreated Quin- 
lan. “After all, even if he is here, you’re not 
bound to meet. Bad cess to him for your evil 
ganius, say 1! Shure he spoilt your whole life 
for you. ’Tis more than he’s worth to be send- 
ing a sigh or a fret after him now.” 

“You are sure no one knows; no one except 
dad and Dr. MaeShamus?” said Miss Em, sud- 
denly. “Mrs. O’Hara never got hold of it?” 

“Sorra a word, my darlint. ’Twas managed 
beautiful. But for all that,” added theT)ld wo- 
man, sorrowfully, “the master was bent on giv- 
ing a new mistress to the house and rulin’ you 
ever after.” 

“Nothing has been the same since,” said Miss 
Em, hopelessly. 

“No, nor ever will be! Shure you’ve paid a 
heavy price for a girl’s freak, honey!” 

“You will try and find out why he’s here, 
Quinny!” entreated her mistress; “there must 
be some reason.” 

“1 did hear the ould gentleman was very ill; 


78 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


maybe he sent for him. ’Twould be strange 
now if he left him the money and property, after 
all.” 

A hot flush dyed Miss Em^s cheek and crept 
up to the shadows of her drooping braids of hair. 

“He would scarcely do that,” she said, very 
low. “You know the reason.” 

“Ah, musha, there’d be ways and means of 
making that right,” said Quinlan, contemptu- 
ously. “ ’Tis aisy to square the law when you’ve 
got money. And that ould Morrison can lave 
his as he likes, law or no law. Who else has he 
belonging to him that he hasn’t fought with or 
insulted years ago?” 

Miss Em rose and wound up her loosely fall- 
ing hair. “Four days more and then I’m safe, ” 
she muttered; “I needn’t leave the house at all.” 

She moved away to the door and stood there a 
moment, her hand on the handle. 

“What was that about the marriage card, 
Quinny?” she asked with a faint smile. 

“Three times for you, honey, as sure as I’m 
a living woman, and riches next to it. Take my 
word but there’s some grand lord in Dublin wait- 
in’ for ye, and ye’re troubles are to- end at last ” 

“With marriage?” said Miss Em, bitterly. 
“More likely begin afresh, that’s what my ex- 
perience of life teaches.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


79 


CHAPTER vrr. 

“looicing back.” 

. A clock in some distant region of the house 
was striking the hour of midnight as Miss Em 
entered her own room. She closed and locked 
the door and set down her candle. She felt too 
alert and wideawake for bed. All her thoughts 
were back in the past, and the spell of an invisi- 
ble hand seemed forcing her to unlock at its will 
one secret chamber of memory that she had told 
herself should never again be opened. 

To and fro she paced the floor, her hands 
clinched, her face set and stern. Was she to 
be drawn once more into the whirlpool of fate? 
Was the old sin, the old folly, destined to haunt 
her anew? The horizon of her life had often 
seemed bounded by sheer hopelessness ; but again 
and again had vitality of temperament and a 
certain reckless courage, which feared nothing, 
dispersed the black <5louds, and through the rifted 
gloom shown streaks of brightness beyond. 

But darkness was on her soul to-night, and her 
eyes grew sullen and unhopeful as they met their 
own reflection when some chance movement 
brought her face to face with it. 


80 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“How I loved him once, how 1 believed in 
him!” The sharp -sting of wounded faith and 
broken trust sounded in the half-breathed words. 

As if moved by some strong impulse she sud- 
denly paused before a small chest, brass-bound 
and firmly secured, that stood in an obscure cor- 
ner of the large room. 

“My Bluebeard’s cupboard!” and she laughed 
mockingly. “How often have I resolved to de- 
stroy your secrets, yet there they are — intact!” 

She lifted the box and placed it on the table 
where her writing materials were lying. Then 
unlocking it with a curious-looking key from her 
private bunch, she peered into its depths with a 
half-fearful curiosity. 

“It is like opening a grave,” she thought, as 
the faint odor of dead flowers and perfumed paper 
reached her. Her hand wandered am6ng the 
packets of letters, scraps of faded ribbon, dried 
and withered blossoms, once emblematic of hopes 
that like themselves were forever dead. 

Suddenly she touched a thick leather-covered 
pocketbook lying at the bottom of the box. Half 
reluctantly she drew it out. 

The dust of withered flowers, and their faint 
pot-pourri scent, were like haunting memories as 
she opened and turned the fluttering leaves. 

Gradually her face softened, her eyes grew 
misty and tender, 

Strange it is that of all associations with the 
past, and with those we have loved, or lost, noth- 
ing is so powerful as scent. The faint, subtle 
breath of some remembered perfume will waft 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


81 


thought and memory baick as if by enchantment; 
and scenes long past spring into life, voices long 
silent echo in our ears, tender half-forgotten 
words come back to thrill our hearts again and 
waken tears of longing, or regret. 

Come and gaze on our face once more, 

Bring’ us the smiles of the olden days ; 

Come and shine in your place once more 
And change the dark into golden rays. 

Gone ! Gone ! Joy is fled from us 
Into the night of the nevermore, 

And darkness rests where once you shed for us 
Light we will miss for evermore. 

No world-hardened woman, no reckless ad- 
venturess stood there in that miduight solitude 
now. 

The hand of Time turned back for her the 
pages of intervening years. For one hour she 
gave herself up to the spell of memory, and the 
records of that mad, glad, reckless girlhood for 
whose follies she had paid so heavy a price. 

“Frags.’’ from “Peg’s Diary.” 

“If ever 1 look back I shall like to remember 
what a good time 1 have had ! As long as 1 can 
remember no one has crossed me or coerced me ; 
I’ve done just what 1 pleased and shall continue 
to do so even if I marry, which I suppose I shall 
do some day; not yet awhile, though. Prom 
seventeen to twenty are the three best years of 


82 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


a girPs life. I’ll have every bit of good out of 
them that can be had. I’ll live. Live to my 
finger-tips, laugh, jest, enjoy! but I won’t love; 
that means moping, brooding, discontent, worry, 
and wrinkles. Let as many love me as like^ 
but. Peg, be wise', keep yourself heart-whole if 
you want to be happy. 

“I hope I shall never get tired of dancing — I 
do so love it. They say I’m the best dancer in 
the county. Is that why I get so many part- 
ners? How jealous the O’ Bradys, and Rushtons, 
and Cranfords all are of me! There’s nothing 
too bad to say — I’m a coquette, I’m extravagant, 
I’m immodest (because my lace tucker is an inch 
lower than their scraggy necks can bear), I laugh 
too much ! Oh, there’s no end to the catalogue 
of sins! But propriety’s always dull, and I hate 
dullness. How shocked they looked when 1 said 
that wit and intelligence were as good as all the 
virtues put together, and far more pleasant ! 1 

always respect successful iniquities, and have 
more sympathy with sinners than vfith saints, 
even in fiction. 

“There’s a sinner here, by the way. He’s 
just home from England; ‘Morrison’s son,’ they 
call him; I don’t know his other name; but the 
father’s a bad lot, and no one has a good word 
for him or his son, despite their wealth. They 
live about five miles off from Carrig-duve; but 
the house is so shut in by trees that I’ve never 
bad a good look at it. Old Morrison’s not often 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


88 


there; he goes abroad a great deal, and the boy 
has been at schoof or college ever since I can 
remember. 

“I’ve seen hi Ai at last! 

“He’s the handsomest fellow for miles round; 
they’ll all have to look out for their laurels now. 
’Twas in the post-office we met. I went in for 
some stamps, and he was leaning against the 
counter talking to Mrs. Maloney. How he looked 
at me! 

“Of course, I didn’t pretend to notice it. (Long 
eyelashes are very useful sometimes.) He left 
the shop first, so Mrs. Maloney told me who he 
was. 

“It’s odd that every one calls him only ‘Mor- 
rison’s son.’ 1 never remember a Mrs. Morrison 
at Rooklands. Perhaps his father married a 
foreigner. The son is dark, but gloriously hand- 
some. Like a Spanish brigand, I think. 

“ r wonder if 1 shall meet him anywhere. The 
Cranfords have a dance to-night. Perhaps he’s 
invited. I hope so. I’ll put on my pink silk on 
the chance. Nothing becomes me like pink or 
white, but I’ll favor the first for this occasion ; 
besides, the dress is fresher, and a better lit than 
the muslin. ' . 

“He was at the Cranford’s. 

“Young Cranford, it appears, was a schoolfel- 
low, and they met yesterday, and so he asked 
him in to-night. Mere Cranford seemed rather 
put out about it. I don’t know why she should 


84 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


be. As for myself, it was the usual, ‘1 came! I 
saw! I conquered !' 

“I^ow, 1 don’t say this out of conceit, but 
Denis Morrison was a fearful case of ‘love at 
first sight’ ; nor did he leave me long in doubt 
about it. He’s only nineteen or twenty, but, 
thank Heaven ! there’s no gaucherie or hobble- 
dehoyness about him. I remember reading some- 
where that a man- always interests a woman best 
by audacity. Your timid and modest fellow 
never gets, a second thought. Well, my new 
admirer was audacious enough to get a good 
many ‘second thoughts’ from me, 

“ ‘You’re such a cool, delightful little devil,’ 
said he to me once this evening. ‘Talking to 
you is as good as a draught of champagne. ’ 

^‘If that was so, he certainly went in exten- 
sively for the ‘champagne’ of my conversation. 

“He confided all his hopes and ambitions to 
me. He was determined to be either a soldier 
or a sailor;^ life of adventure was essential. 
He hated stagnation. He looked so bold and 
handsome and daring that I could quite believe 
it, and more — I could understand it was an im- 
possible state of existence for him. 

“In some things he is so boyish still ! There’s 
a curious mingling of depths and shallows, hardi- 
hood and judgment in his nature. At present 
all is chaos and turbulence. As a rule, 1 hate 
boys, male creature under thirty is worth 
taking seriously. The others are a mixture of 
idiot and animal, boor and fop. Why is it they 
take so much more knocking into shape than 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


85 


women, and such a much longer time to bO' 
knocked into it? I’ll lea^e that conundrum 
unanswered, and go to bed and dream perhaps 
of Denis Morrison’s wicked eyes and audacious 
compliments. 

“How often we’ve met ! 

“It can’t be always accident! 

“He’s not very popular in the neighborhood. 
A ‘sense of mystery’ floats about him, as Hood 
says of his haunted house. What it is 1 can’fc 
imagine. I’ve asked Quinlan, my nurse, who is 
generally up in all the gossip of the p]ace, but 
she won’t say anything more than that there 
have always been ‘queer stories’ of Wild Morri- 
son, as the father was called, and that the boy 
was a ‘regular young devil,’ and up to any bit of 
mischief imaginable from the time he could walk 
alone till he went to college. 

“He goes to very few houses where we visit. 
Our meetings are mostly out of doors. If he does 
not see me for two or three days he haunts the 
lane beyond our orchard. Once he even advent- 
ured the orchard itself. Dad was away from 
home; perhaps that was as well; I hardly think 
he would have liked so unceremonious a visitor. 

“October gales Jiave begun their pranks; rain 
clouds replace sunshine and blue sky. I feel 
melancholy and out of sorts. We have had a 
desperate quarrel. He wanted me to confess I 
cared for him more than for Harrie Brady; as 
I wouldn’t say so he showered abuse and accusa- 
tions upon me and flung himself off in a pet. 


86 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“I was too astounded and angry to care very 
much at first. But three days have passed and 
my wrath has begun to cool. It seems rather 
strange that he has not made an attempt to see 
me, or write to me; he has always been the first 
to come round in any difference or disagreement. 
It is stranger still that 1 should miss him so 
much; usually it has been ‘out of sight, out of 
mind,’ with me and my sweethearts. Well, if 
he chooses to sulk 1 shall amuse myself by flirt- 
ing with Harriemore than ever; not that there’s 
any comparison between them, but Denis Morri- 
son will never know 1 think so. 


“Thank goodness, the hunting will soon com- 
mence ! 

“No better cure for low spirits and moping 
than a good rousing gallop over stiff country. 
My little Irish mare and 1 are of one mind on 
that point, and our reputation ‘second to none,’ 
in the hunting field. 

“For a whole month I’ve heard and seen noth- 
ing of my fiery lover. I am too proud to ask for 
news; I only conjecture he has gone to Dublin. 
Well, I am not going to fret over his loss! He 
shall hear that Peg O’Hara has never flirted so 
desperately, laughed so^gayly, danced so lightly, 
or ridden so recklessly as now, when he in his 
vanit}^ would fain believe her fretting her heart 
out for his absence, or regretting the cruelty that 
banished him.” 

The reader paused, and closed the book, and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


87 


for a moment stood there motionless, one hand 
pressed to her eyes. ' 

“How well 1 remember that time!’^ she said 
to herself. “The pain, the weariness, the long 
empty days, the perpetual effort to seem the 
same. Oh ! he was very cruel — and then my ac- 
cident, and the dreary winter passed on the couch, 
and the news of his entanglement with that hate- 
ful woman in Dublin, and at last — at last — thsit 
letter. 1 was so weak, and so tired of being un- 
happy, and life only seemed to begin for me tlien^ 
for, oh, 1 had loved you all the time, my darling, 
all the time!” 

She glanced at the book where it had fallen 
among the letters and the withered flowers. 

“1 haven’t courage to read any more to-night, ” 
she said, and locked the box and pushed it away 
with a sort of desperate earnestness. 


88 


PEG, THE RAKE. 




CHAPTER VITL 

LOOKING FORWARD. 

With hair neatly braided, and with a trim, if 
well-worn, morning gown, Miss Em entered the 
breakfast-room next morning almost on the stroke 
of the clock. 

Mrs. O’Hara, carefully measuring out the seo 
ond teaspoonful of tea for the pot looked up in 
astonishment. 

“Is the world coming to an end?” she ex- 
claimed. 

“I hope not,”^sai(r Miss Em, briskly. “1 
want a good deal more out of it first.” 

Her eyes were on the letters, but she would not 
allow her anxiet}^ to appear, and calmly waited 
till her father had sorted and peered into them 
in his usual slow, methodical fashion. 

No disappointment this time ! There v/as Lady 
Patricia’s letter; and if anything could have 
added zest to her unappetizing meal, those bright, 
cheery lines and spicy bits of gossip, as well as 
the certainty of a successful issue to her scheme, 
might well have done so. 

“My Dear Child” (wrote Lady Pat): “Of 
course I’m delighted to have you ! 1 telegraphed 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


89 


yesterday to save time. I’ve put up at the Gresham, 
having let my house, as I intend leaving Ireland 
for some time. You know what that means. 
They make you very comfortable here, and one’s 
saved the worry of servants ; and when two or 
three choice spirits drop in to lunch or dinner, oh ! 
the blessing of feeling everything will be right 
without the bother of preparation. Why don’t 
we all live in hotels, like those dear Americans? 
Be sure you come on Tuesday, as you;’ Dublin 
dissipation will commence on Wednesday with 
the Kellys’ ball. (Have you heard of it?) The 
day 1 received your letter I met her at luncheon, 
at the Vanecourts, Stephen’s Green; I mentioned 
that a friend was coming to stay with me, and 
angled for your invitation. On hearing the 
friend’s name Mrs. Kelly was more than de- 
lighted. Couldn’t understand how she could 
have forgotten you, and begged me to make 
apologies. Hope you’ve got a good gown. 
Every one will be there; 1 hear the Lord 
Lieutenant has been ‘caught’ for it. I’m sure 
Lady A. won’t put in an appearance; altogether 
it will be an omnium gatherum, and, as Paddy 
Kearney would say, ‘there’ll be ructions!’ 1 
hear from his sister, who is coming out (she is 
downright pretty, my dear), that he has been 
staying in your part of the country. Should you, 
he, and the MacShamus meet, what a cozy whist 
party ! How is my dear doctor? all kind remem- 
brances to both. By-the-by, 1 was forgettiifg: 
make preparations for a lengthened stay; in- 
deed^ if 1 know you right, you’re not likely to 


90 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


be wanting to rush back to Castle Glum and Ma- 
dame Skinflint in a hurry. 1 have a little prop- 
osition to make to you, but it must stapd over 
till we meet. I’m sorry to say poor Agnes is 
much worse; she’s going exactly like her sweet 
mother. To take her abroad this winter is im- 
possible; I’ve given her two tuirns to Cannes, as 
you know, but no real benefit has ensued. You’ve 
not written to me since you left Yorkshire. Is it 
true that the L’ Estranges have come into such a 
lot of money? not before it was wanted, I’m sure. 
I’ve heard bailiffs were pretty frequent visitors 
there! You say nothing of your father; I hope 
he is well. As for madam, you know my opin- 
ion, and 1 don’t pay the empty compliment of 
inquiries in that quarter. Well, my dear child, 
a week won’t exhaust all we have to say to one 
another. Get as much good out of rural life and 
eari}^ hours as you possibly can ; there’ll not be 
much beauty-sleep for you here, Au revoir till 
Tuesday. 1 cannot meet you at the station, as 
IVe an engagement; but come direct here, I’ve 
secured a bedroom next my own, and the faith- 
ful Anne will do everything for your comfort. 
We shall be quite by ourselves on Tuesday night, 
but can dine at the table dliote if you prefer it. 
Love and kisses, mj^ dear Erhilia, 

“From your ever affectionate 

“Patricia Moira. 

ji“P.S. — I have discovered a t7^easure of a 
dressmaker if you want anything done; I have- 
patronized her largely. You needn’t mind what 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


91 


you give lier^ — she’ll even patch, so bring any- 
thing that wants renovating.” 

Miss Em laid down the letter with a sigh of - 
content. Her satisfaction was so evident that 
Mrs. O’Hara, whose attention had already been 
excited by the length of the epistle, and who had 
recognized the coroneted cipher on the envelope, 
could not restrain a remark. “You seem might- 
ily pleased with your letter,” she said. 

“Lady Pat’s letters are always charming,” 
answered Miss’ Em, folding the closely written 
sheets together with a smile of triumph. 

“Oh, is it from Ladj^ Patricia Moira?” in- 
quired Mrs. O’Hara, suavely. 

If she reverenced any one on earth it was her 
stepdaughter’s aristocratic godmother, who, in 
years gone by, she had alternately toadied and 
abused. For Lady Pat had never pretended to 
regard her as anything but a vulgar upstart, or 
forgiven Mr. O’Hara for giving such a mistress 
to Carrig-duve. 

“Yes, it is from Lady Patricia Moira,” replied 
Miss Em, “and she has asked me to Dublin to 
stay with her. I shall go next Tuesday.” 

“You certainly don’t favor your home with 
much of your society,” sneered Mrs. O’Hara. “I 
wonder you like to be always sponging on stran- 
gers in the manner you do.” 

“I was not aware that Lady Pat was a ‘stran- 
ger,’ ” said Miss Em, hotly. “And if I give 
‘home,’ as you call it, little of my society, it is 
for the very excellent reason that I am happier 


92 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


out of it. We ueedu’t go into details at this 
time of day. 1 think you know them ’as well as 
Ido.” 

“I know that 1 have never experienced any- 
thing but rudeness and ingratitude at your 
hands,” answered her stepmother; “that ail 
my sacrifices, and efforts have^ been misrepre- 
sented, that you have spoken against me to all 
your friends, and prevented me from taking my 
proper position in the county by your falsehoods 
and insolence.” 

“All of which means that Lady Pat snubbed 
you years ago, and that the county followed lier 
example,” said Miss Em, coolly. “Popularity 
isn’t such an easy matter as you seem to 
imagine. ’ ’ 

“Popularity, indeed! If I laid myself out for 
it in the way some people do, I should have 
enough and to spare. ’ ’ 

“Is that the reason you prefer to ‘spare’ it?” 
asked Miss Em. ‘ ‘ How little contents you ! For 
my part I’ve never had enough yet.” 

She took up her letter again and glanced at it* 
as if the conversation did not possess much in- 
terest for her. 

“How long are you going to stay with Lady 
Patricia?” asked Mrs. O’Hara, presently. 

“A month,” answered her stepdaughter at 
random, “or longer, perhaps,” she added, shoot- 
ing “the arrow at a venture” in her usual reck- 
less fashion. “If she goes abroad, I may very 
probably go with her.” 

“Don’t expect us to find the money for foreign 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


93 


travels, then,” snapped Mrs. O’Hara. “Your 
extravagance has .crippled us nicely as it is.” 

“That’s rather stale hearing by this time,” re- 
torted Miss Em. “Surely what you term my 
‘extravagance’ has been more than atoned for 
by your judicious system of cheese - paring. 
Thank goodness,” she added with a sigh of 
relief as she pushed back her chair, “that 1 
shall see a decent table again, and know what 
a dinner means when I leave here.” 

And she left the room to avoid further spar- 
ring, and to pen a long and chatty epistle, such 
as her soul loved, to Lady Pat. 

“It was a bold stroke, but it has succeeded 
admirably,” she thought to herself with pardon- 
able triumph. “But the diamonds have yet to 
be secured. My dress will be nothing without 
them. I’m sure Lady Pat will let me have some 
lace. I declare, 1 think I’ll leave the bodice alone 
now, and trust to this dressmaker she mentions.” 

She had drawn her table over to the window, 
and sat there now, the letter lying before her, 
her cheek resting on her hand, while the other 
was employed in idly tracing lines and figures 
on the blotting-paper. 

Her thoughts wandered vaguely to and fro, 
settling on nothing, yet with a restless desire to 
find anchorage. 

Successful schemers are not always proud of 
achieved success. There are victories as humili- 
ating as defeat, though the fact may be known 
to none but the victor. Miss Ern, like many a 
great political genius, was far happier in work- 


94 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


ing for a purpose than in the actual accomplish- 
ment of the purpose itself. That oddly' balanced 
temperament of hers swung to and fro like an 
uneasy pendulum, and recognized in her present 
success only an omen of future failure. “When 
things come right too easily ’tis a bad sign, so 
Quinlan used to say. Hallo! what’s that?” 

The sound of angry voices and loud argument 
reached her, and she raised her head and listened 
intently. 

‘ ‘ My amicable stepmother again ! What’s poor 
Quinny been doing now, I wonder? Perhaps 
she’s discovered about the whisky last night. I 
quite forgot to ask Quin where she got it, by the 
way. ’ ’ 

• A knock at the door cut short her reflections. 
“Come in,” she cried, guessing who was the 
applicant. 

“Why, Quinny!” she exclaimed, looking with 
astonishment at the old woman’s angry face; 
“what on earth’s the matter?” 

“Matter!” repeated the old housekeeper, in 
loud, indignant tones. “Is it the matter ye’re 
asking about? Indeed, then. Miss Peg, I’d like 
to know what in the name of all the saints in 
glory Saint Patrick was about when he dru\r all 
the snakes and reptiles out of Ireland and forgot 
to send all the mane ould women to-'kape thim 
company?” 

“I’m sure I can’t tell you, Quinny,” said Miss 
Em, smiling; “but what’s put you out so?” 

“Faith, alannah! little enough, bub that I was 
just givin’ Bridget Lehane, the poor crathur, and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


95 


she just afther losing ner own mother last night 
— (God rest her soul!) — a bit of salt fish and a 
morsil of drippin’ you couldn’t blind a fly’s eye 
with, whin Mrs. O’Hara comes out and catches 
me. Och! the divil! such a shaun-a-mauling 
as 1 got! you’d think I’d robbed her of her last 
bite and sup! But faith. Miss Peg, darlin’, 1 
spoke up as saucy as a latch. I wonder ehe 
-didn’t give me the warnin’ as she’s always 
threatnin’. Maybe she knows, though, ’tisn’t 
Mary Quinlan would be long wantin’ a place. 
Don’t all the quality know her worth, as well as 
they know that many’s the fine dinner they’ve 
had here in the ould days whin Carrig-duve was 
kept up in the best style, and no one had call to 
be ashamed of it? And isn’t it meself, tho’ none 
so young as I was, that can roast and baste and 
serve up wid the best of them? I tould the mis- 
tress so. Och! indeed, and I did; but I’ll be 
even wid her yet,” she added, more calmly, and 
with a cautious glance around; “when I gets , a 
commission I does it, and—” significantly, 
got me eye on thirn.^^ 

“On them? on what, Quinny?” asked Miss 
Em, looking rather puzzled. 

“Shure, darlin’, you’re not after forgettin’ 
what you asked me? The kays, of course. ’Twill 
be all right, honey, never you fear.” 

“But not too soon, Quinny,” urged Miss Em. 
“I wouldn’t for worlds have the diamonds missed 
till I’m safe out of the way.” 

“They won’t be missed, trust me for that. 
Divil a sowl shall get wind or word of it till 


96 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


they’re safe in your kapin' ; and aren’t they 
your own by all lawful right, and no interlopers 
havin’ any call on them at all, at all? Bad 
scran to them !” 

“There’s something very satisfactory in re- 
ceiving an indorsement of one’s own opinion,” 
thought Miss Em. “It can’t be wrong to take 
possession of one’s lawful possessions; all the 
same, I’d rather not have had to do it in this 
fashion.” 

She let Quinlan ramble on uninterruptedly .for 
some moments. A.t last she interrupted a string 
of personal grievances by a question. 

“Did Bridget Lehane tell you anything about 
— I mean, did she mention any one having ar- 
rived lately?” she asked. 

Quinlan nodded. “Yes, darlin’ ! ’Tis true, 
’twas Morrison’s son you saw. He’s been away 
in foreign parts all these years. The talk in the 
village is that he’s come home with hapes of 
money. I suppose, too, the ould gintleman will 
he lavin’ him* his fortune. ’Tis hard to come at 
the rights o’ that story. Miss Peg; but there’s 
them as sez that the mother was no foreigner at 
all, but could be found a dale nearer home than 
people think for. ’ ’ 

“It matters very little now,” said Miss Em 
wearily. “It was alwa3"s a case of ‘give a dog 
a bad name’ with Denis Morrison. Even if he 
got Rooklands and all the money, I’m sure he 
wouldn’t live in this part of the country again.” 

The old woman looked at her curiously. There 
were times when, well as she knew Miss Em, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


97 


she was baffled and bewildered by her. That 
she should have been so upset the previous night 
and appear so indifferent this morning were con- 
tradictions she could not reconcile. 

“I’ll find out all about him if you wish,’’ she 
said cautiously. “But shure you’re goin’ off 
wid yourself next week, so why need you be 
troublin’ your head about him, or any one else 
here? ’Tis the grand time you’ll be havin’ in 
Dublin, Miss Peg. You know that all the Cas- 
tle people are goin’ there?” 

“Yes; Captain Kearney told me.” 

“The captain thinks a mighty lot o’ ye. Miss 
Peg, darlin’. Shure if I’d the chance betwixt 
him and his uncle, it’s the young man I’d be 
selectin’.” 

“But there’s no question of either, Quinny,” 
laughed Miss Em; “Sir Jasper has quite dropped 
out of my sight these last ten years ; as for' the 
captain he’s much too young, leaving out of the 
question that he’s in love with his cousin.” 

“Miss Molly’s a beauty, and no mistake,” said 
the old woman. “But faith. Miss Peg, ne’er a 
one o’ them can hold a candle to yourself whin 
ye ware a gurl. ’Tis mad I feel whin I think of 
the chances you’ve thrown awa}^. Not but what 
you’re a fine woman still, and when you’re 
dressed at night and laughin’ and jokin’ as I’ve 
seen you, no one would iver say ye ware thirty.” 

Miss Em laughed. “You old flatterer!” she 
said; “there— go along, and get on with your 
work, or there’ll be another scrimmage. I’ll go 
down to the village presently, and give Bridget 


98 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


something to make up for her loss of salt fish 
and dripping.’^ 

“Ah, that’s like your generous heart. Miss 
Peg. Didn’t we always say of you that you’d 
give away the wurrld if ye had it?” 

“Quinlan!” rang sharply out from the corri- 
dor. “Haven’t you finished that room yet? half 
an hour’s surely enough time for you.” 

“Go, Quinny dear,” said Miss Em; “there’s 
no use in riling her more ; she’ll have enough 
vexation next week.” 

“Faith, and that’s true,” chuckled the old 
woman ; and picking up her duster she left the 
room. 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


99 


CHAPTER IX. 

A CHURCH PARADE. 

T WO days of rain and gloom, and heavy clouds 
brooding over earth and sky ushered in a Sunday 
fit for April, so radiant was the morning with 
blue and gold,* and fresh rain- washed leaves of 
arbutus, and laurel hedges, and late blossoms of 
autumn flowers that winter had spared. 

Miss Em, opening her eyes on such a changed 
jcene, felt her resolution of a lazy morning and 
breakfast in bed rapidly vanishing. She made 
her toilet with unusual care. A prolonged study 
of The Queen, which she took regularly every 
week, had suggested a new style of hair-dress- 
ing which she essayed for the first time. It 
proved eminently successful, and allowed of her 
dispensing with quite half of the massive plaits 
that for long had more disfigured than adorned 
the back of her head. “1 must practice that 
style till I get it right for Wednesday,” she said, 
as, handglass in hand, she surveyed profile, back, 
and front view. “I declare I look ten years 
younger; and ’tis so easy. I wonder if Madame 
O’Hara.will notice any difference.” 

If madame did she was not going to flatter her 


100 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


obnoxious stepdaughter by any allusion to the 
change, or the improvement it had wrought. 
The fact of coming down to breakfast a full 
quarter of an hour late, and dressed in the Bond 
Street costume previousl}^ mentioned, were a pal- 
pable advertisement of church-going intentions. 

As a rule Miss Em spent her Sunday mornings 
in bed with a novel, and her afternoons in letter- 
writing. It was rarely that she accompanied her- 
people, and favored the O’Hara pew with her 
presence. The vicar was not a brilliant speci- 
men of his order; and his sermons, Miss Em 
declared, were so far below even ^average intelli- 
gence that they irritated her. However, on this 
particular Sunday she seemed to have put preju- 
dice aside with the rusty and superfluous plaits 
that were shut in her dressing-table drawer, and 
was altogether so amiable and entertaining that 
Mrs. O’Hara could not but wonder in vulgar 
parlance “what was in the wind.” 

Perhaps Miss Em herself was only vaguely 
conscious of any special reason for this church- 
going freak. Certainly there was something 
strained and unnatural in her manner as they 
passed up the old yew- shaded path, exchanging 
occasional greetings with neighbors; and she 
kept close beside her father, instead of marching 
in advance in her usual independent manner. 

Apprehension, too, was in the nervous glance 
that swept aisle and gallery from the vantage- 
point of the high boxlike pew. Yet absentees 
and devotees were marked with unfailing pre- 
cision. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


101 


As the service proceeded she felt more at ease. 
Doubt became certainty, and fear ceased to 
quicken her heart-throbs, or set her pulses flut- 
tering. The church was unusually full, and 
Miss Em arranged an after- service programme 
of greetings and gossip that promised to com- 
pensate for her present martyrdom. 

The day still held its promise, making winter 
gowns and mantles take a reproachful shabbi- 
ness that rebuked premature sunshine. Miss 
Em felt safe on that point ; and the excellence 
of a Well-preserved complexion added to her sat- 
isfaction as she stood receiving and exchanging 
greetings which proved her popularity to be still 
unimpaired. Mrs. O’Hara had passed on with a 
grim and vinegarish expression after hearing her 
stepdaughter accept an invitation to lunch with 
the MacShamuses, and seen cordial greetings 
exchanged between her and the Castle Lustrell 
folk. These amenities were as gall and worm- 
wood to the mean ambitious woman whose place 
in the county had been so clearly marked off for 
her, and whose unpopularity was as sure as it 
certainly was deserved. 

Miss Em was standing beside the vicar’s wife 
when a pompous-looking woman, overdressed in 
velvet and furs, and evidently on excellent terms 
with herself, passed them. 

She bowed, and then extended her hand to the 
old lady, but quite ignored her companion. 

“Don’t 5"ou know Miss O’Hara, Mrs. Mark- 
ham?” asked Mrs. Pigott innocently, with a 
view to setting things right. 


102 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


The lady apparently gave herself up to an 
effort of memory and an eyeglass, and vaguely 
murmured of “not having the pleasure.’’ 

“I believe we met once, about two years ago,” 
said Miss Em in her coldest and clearest tones. 
“In Dublin, was it not?” 

“You — you really have the advantage of me,” 
murmured Mrs. Markham, getting hot and red 
and generally uncomfortable beneath the smiling 
gaze of those clear gray eyes. “I certainly was 
in Dublin two or three years ago, but — ” 

“Not 'at a luncheon party at Lady Blake’s?” 
asked Miss Em innocently, knowing perfectly 
well that the Markhams would have given their 
right hands to be invited to such a house. “Oh, 
I beg your pardon, I must have confused you 
with some one else. Really, one meets so many 
people nowadays, society is so mixed. I heard 
of a case of knighthood the other day where the 
gentleman actually borrowed his wife’s name, 
his own being lost in obscurity. You are stay- 
ing here, I suppose, Mrs. Marks?” 

“Markham is my name,” answered the lady, 
with an indignant glance at this impertinent per- 
son. “We have come to reside in the county.” 

“Mr. Markham has bought River’s Court, my 
dear,” said the vicar’s wife in explanation. 
“And they are restoring it in the most lavish 
manner. You are away so much that these 
things come quite as news to you.” 

“Indeed, they do,” affirmed Miss Em. -“Dear 
me, restoring River’s Court! Do you know, I’ve 
quite a horror of that word ! It means all sorts 


103 


\ 


PEG, THE RAKE. 

of dreadful modern vulgarities, miscalled -im. 
provements’ by house decorators and upholster- 
ers. But the good old families are fast dying 
out, and it is impossible, I suppose, for strangers 
to recognize that taste and suitability are more 
important than flashy splendor.” 

A “tastoof the O’Hara tongue” had once been 
a proverb in the county. - Miss Em felt a keen 
delight in reviving it at such an opportunity. 
She knew as well as Mrs. Markham herself 
where thej^ had really met, and why that lady 
pretended to ignore the fact. 

There could be but one answer to that last re- 
mark. 'Not even the eyeglass was proof against 
it. Mrs. Markham hurriedly murmured that the 
carriage was waiting, and with an ungraceful 
bow hastened away in its direction, a mass of 
crimson humiliation, whose very outward splen- 
dor seemed conscious of the amused glance that 
followed, and the sarcastic comments that would 
signalize her retreat. 

“O’Hara, O’Hara,” she repeated to herself. 
“Yes, of course I remember. A poor middle- 
aged shabby adventuress I thought her ; perhaps 
she has come in for some money ; she seems to 
be thought a great deal of here. I declare one 
never knows how to treat these Irish families. I 
suppose I’ve put my foot in it. I wonder if she 
knows the Lustrells? How provoking if she 
does!” 

“You were very severe on her, Miss O’Hara,” 
said the vicar’s wife, as the portly figure disap- 
peared. 


104 


PEG, THE KAICE. 


‘*‘WasI?” said Miss Em indifferently. “Well, 
I detest these nouveaux riches, who are taking 
up all our good old places. Manchester cotton 
spinners, and retired sausage makers like the 
Burtons settling down and pretending they’re as 
good as any one in the county. Of course you 
will say this sounds very uncharitable, Mrs. Pig- 
ott, but you must allow for Irish prejudices.” 
Mrs. Pigott was English herself and of no par- 
ticular family or account. She had been a vic- 
tim to social and financial eclipse for the greater 
part of her meek, overburdened life, and was 
quite content to allow for Irish prejudices, or 
any other peculiarity of that interesting nation, 
if it was conducive to peace and quietness. She 
adroitly turned the conversation, and as some 
other people came up at the same moment, Miss 
Em moved away and rejoined the doctor’s wife. 

The face she had feared, yet half-longed to 
recognize, was not there. Possibly the ordeal 
of church-going had been more than he could 
brave. 

Relief and disappointment were mingled 
strangely in her heart; her eager acceptance 
of Mrs. MacShamus’s offer arose mainly from 
a desire to hear something she dared not ask. 
The doctor would know, even if his wife were 
ignorant on the point. 

“Jerry was called away to Rooklands,” said 
the old lady presently as they passed down the 
village. “Old Morrison is very ill, they say.” 

“So I’ve heard,” answered Miss Em. “Do 
you know what’s the matter?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


105 


“A general brealc-up, the doctor says. He 
lived a hard life, and tried his constitution more 
than most men of his age. He’s a very trouble- 
some patient to manage.” 

Miss Em made no observation. Good actress 
as she was, and hardened as she professed to be 
to most emotions, she could not bring herself to 
utter that one name indifferently. She kept the 
conversation on trivial matters until they reached 
the house; but time slipped by, the luncheon 
hour had long passed, and yet the doctor made 
no appearance on the scene. At last they sat 
down to the meal without him, Mrs. MacShamus 
givijig it as her opinion that “old Morrison” 
must be worse, and the doctor did not like to 
leave him. 

Miss Em knew that it was the old lady’s cus- 
tom to have a nap on Sunday afternoons; and 
anxious as she was to. see the doctor she had too 
much tact to make a prolonged stay. She bade 
her good-by, with a half promise to look in the 
next evening if she could manage to get through 
her packing ; it was one of her peculiarities never 
to do that till the last minute, and to make her 
departure a scene of confusion that left every one 
in as much excitement as herself, so the promise 
held little hope of fulfillment. 

The sunshine of the morning had faded into a 
gray soft haziness, as if the brilliant day had 
already repented of its prodigal gifts. Miss 
Em~ avoided the main street, experience having 
taught her that it was wiser to do this on Sun- 
day afternoons, as most of the boys and men in 


106 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the neighborhood had a predilection for playing 
bowls along the road, a habit which even magis- 
terial warnings and fines could not check. She 
took a lane that lay to the right of the doctor’s 
house and wound in tortuous fashion to a branch 
of the river that usually was little more than a 
creek. Midway, the lane twisted to the margin 
of some low-lying fields, whence a little path led 
into a wood, lovely in summer-time when fiowers 
decked and birds haunted it, but desolate enough 
now with the gray gloom of the Januarj" sky 
spread above its leafiess trees. 

Miss Em paused before entering it. iSTothing 
but a dread of the boys, and anxiety for her Lon- 
don-made costume, would have made her choose 
this lonely and desolate path. As she glanced 
down between crooked tree-stems and tangled 
underwood, she was surprised to see two figures 
sauntering slowly along. * 

As they came nearer an involuntary smile 
broke over her face. They were Molly Lustrell 
and Paddy Kearney. 

She moved forward and greeted them with en- 
thusiasm. 

“Do walk back with me!” she entreated ; “1 
was just dreading that lonely wood, and you 
can take the short cut back to the castle instead 
of the lane.” 

“Won’t it make us very late?” said Molly, 
with an apprehensive glance at her cousin. 

She was a lovely girl of eighteen, lovely enough 
to justify all the encomiums Miss Em had lav- 
ished on her beauty. 


PEG, THE RAKE. * 107 

“Not a bit of it,” he answered, reassuringly;: 
“besides, what does it matter if we are? You 
won’t get more scolding for two sins than one; 
and as for me” —he shrugged his broad shoul- 
ders with a gesture of indifference — “well, I’m 
too used to rows to mind them.” 

“Are you out without leave?” asked Miss Em, 
significantly, looking from one to the' other. 

Molly Lustrell colored slightly. 

“Aunt Sabina went to sleep,” she said; “and 
papa was shut up in the library — ” 

“And we were too considerate to disturb either 
of them by asking permission for a trifle of 
liberty,” interposed Paddy, laughing. 

“Indeed, I don’t blame you,” said Miss Em, 
as they all turned into the wood. “And ’tis 
great luck I met you. I’ve been lunching with 
Mrs. MacShamus, and I couldn’t make my mind 
up to face those bowl-players from the village ; I 
knew they’d be up to their Sunday pranks, so 
I thought I’d come this way, and get home in 
peace.” 

“You’re going to Dublin, I hear,” said Molly. 
“I’m so glad. I do wish you were to chaperon 
me instead of Aunt Sabina. She’ll spoil all my 
pleasure, I’m sure.” 

“And mine,” said Paddy Kearney with a sigh. 

“1 promise to do all I can,” said Miss Em, 
eagerly. “I think you know, though, that Miss 
Lustrell is no great friend to me.” 

“ Nor to any one, ’ ’ said Molly, pouting. ‘ ‘ Some- 
times I feel quite sorry I’ve left school, I had no 
idea what a life I was going to have at home.” 

/ 


108 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


A murmur into a rose-tipped ear seemed to 
breathe of sympathy at this announcement ; Miss 
Em was conveniently deaf, and busied herself 
with disentangling her skirt from an aggressive 
bramble. 

“If we all found life what we imagined or 
wished it to be,” she said at last, “this would be 
a much pleasanter vale of woe to travel through. 
But it’s only natural for youth to rebel against 
all that is obnoxious to, or opposes it. A few 
years hence, Molly, you won’t be for beating that 
pretty head against stone walls, but just accept 
things philosophically, the good with the bad. 
Fate does throw us a few white beans among the 
black, as a rule.” 

“Few people take life as well as you do. Miss 
Ein, ’ ’ said Paddy Kearney. “ You’re a standing 
reproach to all the grumblers.” 

“Oh,” she said, with her bright laugh, “that’s 
the fault, or virtue, of my nature. I simply 
ivon't mope and be down-hearted. Besides, 
there’s always a comic side, even to misfortune, 
if you like to look for it.” 

“Faith, I’d look keenly enough if I could hope 
to find one,” said Paddy. “But that’s a side 
my troubles have never shown to me, Miss Em.” 

‘ ‘ They can’t be very heavy yet, ” she answered. 

‘ ‘ A few tailor’s bills, and the inconvenience of not 
getting as much leave as you would like, that’s 
the scm total, I suppose?” 

„ “Indeed, I wish it was,” said the young man, 
a momentary cloud on his bright face. 

“Give up cards, Paddy,” said Miss Em, warn- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


109 


ingly. “They wake up a vice before we are 
aware of it. Many’s the time I’ve been sorrier 
for success than loss. But all the O’Hara’s are 
born gamblers. Do you remember my Aunt 
Bedelia? Well, she’s nearer seventy than sixty 
now, I’m sure, and as keen on play as ever. She 
has told me that-when she was a girl she’d either 
lose or double her allowance the very day she re- 
ceived it. All her jewels went long ago— I’ve 
got some, by the way . The sight of a card or 
the rattle of the dice-box would wake her up 
from her death-sleep, I do believe.” 

“But Paddy doesn’t gamble, does he?” asked 
Molly, anxiously. 

“ITo-o, of course; only a game now and then, 
at sixpenny points, ’ ’ said Miss Em, reassuringly. 

But the captain made haste to change the sub- 
ject of conversation. His cousin was too young 
and too inexperienced to take as lenient a view 
of the follies and amusements of men as Miss Em 
did. He had no desire to appear absolutely fault- 
less in her eyes, but on the other hand he had less 
inclination to force her into the position of an 
accusing angel — even if a forgiving one. 

To a girl who is very young and very innocent 
the minor offenses of men assume proportions 
out of all keeping with their actual sinfulness. 
Hero worship and idealization are peculiar to 
feminine youth. But, flattering as they un- 
doubtedly are, they are apt to affect men less 
agreeably than might be supposed. 

To feel they are undeserved is. as trying as the 
knowledge that it is impossible to live up to the 


110 


peg; the rake. 


expectations on which they are founded. “Love 
me and make the best of me, ” is the lover’s prayer 
for himself in the first flush and zest of adora- 
tion, 

The woman may be less humble, because more 
conscious of her own deserts, offering meekly, yet 
with perfect sincerity, the white unstained page 
of maiden truth unscored, unblotted by any name 
save that of the dream -prince for whom she has 
waited. 

Paddy Kearney was very much in love and 
very desirous to stand well in the eyes of his 
cousin. But he had not been immaculate, neither 
had ho “scorned delights and lived laborious 
days,” so as to be worthier of her who should 
one day stoop to lift him to her heart. He had 
failed in many things, and fallen oft and low 
from the heights of good resolutions. But he 
was not vicious or immoral, and far more in- 
clined to reverence women for the good there ^vas 
in them than for the evil there might be. 

The flames at which he had singed his wings 
were not such as scorch or destroy the faith of 
youth; and from his boyhood up there had lived 
in his heart a certain tender memory of the love- 
ly child who had been his pet and plaything, 
shared his hopes, listened to his ambitions, and 
sympathized with him in all the scrapes and 
troubles of schoolboy life. Years of separation 
had sent him into the world to fight his own bat- 
tles, and for long they had not met. But under 
all Paddy Kearney’s buoyancy and light hearted- 
ness lingered a strong reverence for kindred, and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Ill 


a strong clinging to early affections and eany 
ties. No one had ever stood to him quite in the 
place of pretty Molly Lustrell, and at the present 
stage of his history he had convinced himself 
that no one could ever do so. 

The obstacle of her father’s coldness and oppo- 
sition was only another incentive to his passion; 
as yet it was only hovering on the border lines 
of avowal, uncertain of .tenure, and abject under 
tyranny. He could not be sure in what light his 
cousin regarded him. Her face and her words 
were alike enigmatical, neither had she faced the 
world as yet, nor received any wider homage than 
the limited sphere of home and school life afforded. 

It was this test which her lover foresaw and 
feared. Selfishness prompted a declaration of 
the love that trembled on his lips a hundred 
times a day, but wisdom counseled a more pru- 
dent course. A girl’s heart, untried, unknow- 
ing itself, rich in impulses, generous, and self- 
sacrificing; would it be right to take advantage 
of such a one? His better nature said “No” — 
that side of it at least which yields to the poetic 
phase of passion. Let her look out on life, mix with 
and judge of others, weigh him in the balance if 
she would, then decide for herself. Storms he 
foresaw in plenty, wrath of guardians, opposi- 
tion, tyranny ; but for such things he cared noth- 
ing if only she would love him as he loved her. 

“Here we are out of the wood,” said Miss 
Em, breaking in upon a prolonged silence. “I 
suppose we must part now; I can’t in conscience 


112 


PEG,. THE RAKE. 


/ 


detain you longer^ Moily, if your Aunt Sabina 
scolds you lay the blame on me, I’ll have it out 
with her in Dublin!” 

She shook hands with them both, laughing 
gayly to the last. 

Perhaps it was only the swaying boughs that 
threw so dark a shadow on her face as she paused 
and looked back at the two absorbed young fig- 
ures. “If youth could last!” the wind seemed 
to sigh in her ear. “If only youth could last!” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


113 


CHAPTER X. 

, SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS. 

Chaos itself had no mean representation in 
the sight aflEorded by Miss Em’s room the next 
morning. 

To some women — and assuredly she was one 
—packing is only another word for wholesale 
confusion. The turning out of drawers and 
wardrobes, the selecting of necessary and un- 
necessary articles, the difficulty of determining 
what to take and what to leave behind, seem a 
necessary part of the business. 

The ordeal of “selection” once passed, Miss 
Em had an elaborate system of stowing away 
and locking and sealing what was left behind for 
fear of prying eyes during her absence. Then 
the actual work of packing commenced, the neat- 
est of trunks and most perfect of traveling gear 
being essentials which she never overlooked. Xo 
objectionable tin trunk or canvas-covered box, 
rendered still more unsightly by the rope cordage 
popularly supposed to be a safeguard against 
weak locks and strong porters, ever distinguished 
her journeys, or called forth the sneers of footmen 
or compassion of ladies’ maids. But it must be 


114 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


confessed that the preparations for such journeys 
gave little promise of a hopeful result, and Quin- 
lan described herself as “fairly run off her legs” 
while yet that Moudaj^ morning was young. 

“Fold that skirt carefully, Quinlan, and re- 
member the fine handkerchiefs go in the sachet. 
If I arrive at the Gresham without a maid His 
no reason that 1 shouldn’t seem to have left one 
behind me. Leave that black satin alone. It 
has to go on the top, I want it for the ball — ■” 

“The ball. Miss Peg! but shure, the bodice is 
all to pieces,” exclaimed Quinlan. “You’re 
never goin’ to put that ould rag on ye?” 

“Indeed but 1 am,” answered her mistress. 
“Old rag do you call it? Just wait and see what 
a bit of good lace and a few — ” She stopped 
abruptly. “Not much time now, Quinny, dear. 
Do you think you can manage those keys?” 

The old woman nodded mysteriously. “ When 
it wants a quarter of an hour or so to the lunch- 
eon-time, Miss Peg, just you be on the lookout. 
Faith, I’ve got the nate little schame in me head, 
and sorra a bit will she be discoverin’ anything 
this long while.” 

“She may be discovering what she likes once 
I’m off,” said Miss Em, selecting her neatest pair 
of boots and putting them on one side. Unex- 
ceptionable foot-gear and gloves of the best make 
and fit were among her traveling maxims. Every- 
thing taut and trim. No fluttering ribbons or 
draggled flounces, or loosely- tied veils ever dis- 
figured her appearance. She was the sort of wo- 
man men like as a companion on a journey, never 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


115 


flustered or fidgety, never worrying guards and 
porters with needless questions, never mean in 
the way of fees and tips. Cool, collected, busi- 
ness-like, neat to look at, and pleasant to talk 
to, it was no wonder Miss Em was a favorite 
with young and old. 

“There’ll be fine hullagoning when she finds 
the jule-case gone!” chuckled Quinlan, as she 
shook out a lace petticoat and carefully arranged 
its delicate frills. 

“Oh, 1 won’t take the case,” said Miss Enl, 
hurriedly; “not if I can open it, that’s to say. 
I want the necklace and the spray and bracelets, 
and a brooch or two, but I’ll leave the rest. Lady 
Pat always lends me jewelry when I stay with 
her. Come now, Quinny, hurry, will you? It 
only wants an hour of luncheon now.” 

“Shure, darlin’, you’ve all the afternoon and 
evening to finish up. Aren’t ye takin’ a power 
an’ all of clothes wid ye this time?” 

“I may go abroad, or to England,” said Miss 
Em, giving a scrutinizing glance at one or two 
well-worn garments which had already under- 
gone the process of renovation. 

She recalled Lady Pat’s postscript and won- 
dered whether the “treasure of a dressmaker” 
could possibly do anything with them. 

“In anj^ case they’d do for a dark day,” she 
reflected, as a vision of the mud of “dear dirty 
Dublin’ ’ rose before her. ‘ ‘ That old brown tweed 
is well-cut though it is shabby, very shabby, and 
it’s been turned once. Shall I venture?” She 
caught Quinlan’s eye. “The king can do no 


IIG 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


wrong,” she said, gayly: “and an O’Hara can 
wear what a Smith or Brown wouldn’t dare be 
seen in. Pack it, Quinny, dear; I’ll venture.” 

For some time neither spoke, and the travel- 
ing trunk began to show signs of filling up. At 
last the old housekeeper j^aused to ask the time, 
and then commending her soul and herself and 
Miss Em jointly to the care of sundry “saints in 
glory,” she cautiously left the room. 

Miss Em felt strangely excited and curious as 
to what the “schame” was to be. A little nerv- 
ous too as to results. 

Presently a cautious tap came at the door. She 
opened it, and saw Quinlan again. 

“Now’s yer time, honey,” she said in a 'whis- 
per. “She’s in her room changing her gowm. 
The kays of the bureau are in the pocket, the 
jule-case she kapes in the bottom drawer. Pm 
going to call her down to say the piece of beef 
has turned, and must be salted; shure, that’ll 
bring her as quick as ould Nick himself. ' Whin 
ye hear her lave her bedroom, just step in. Trust 
me to kape her in the kitchen, and make noise 
enough to let ye know whin she’s cornin’ 
back.” 

“All right, I quite understand,” said Miss 
Em, softly retreating and closing the door. 

In a few moments the loud concerned tones of 
Quinlan’s voice and the bustle and confusion 
without, assured her that the campaign had 
opened. 

She stepped out into the corridor and saw her 
stepmother hastily descending the stars, wrapped 


PFJG, THE RAKE. 


117 


in an old flannel dressing-gown, which she had 
evidently snatched up in a hurry. 

Quick as thought Miss Em crossed the inter- 
vening space and entered the bedroom opposite. 
As Quinlan had said, the dress Mrs. O’Hara had 
worn all the morning had been removed, and lay 
carelessly on the bed. 

A moment — and the keys were in Miss Em’s 
possession. 

A short dela}^ ensued before she found the 
right one, but the drawer was speedily opened, 
and the jewel case lay before her; taking it out 
Miss Em tried key after key in the lock ; none 
of them fitted it. Afraid to waste more time she 
took the case as it was, and hastily relocking the 
bureau put the keys back where she had found 
them. 

The sound of angry voices in the hall expe- 
dited her movements, and assured her she was 
not a moment too soon. Mrs. O’Hara was loud- 
ly declaiming against her housekeeper’s folly. 
The meat was perfectly good ; the idea of pick- 
ling it was absurd, it was the luncheon hour and 
she would scarcely have time to change her 
wrapper, and so on. 

Miss Em heard, and laughed softly to herself ; 
her eyes had a vivid glow, her face something of 
the glee and delight of a child who has success- 
fully carried out a scheme of mischief. But 
soon they were replaced by a . look of anxiety. 
She put the jewel-case safely away in her box, 
and locked it. “Let us hope and pray that she 
won’t take it into her head to look into that 


118 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


drawer for anything,” she thought uneasily. 
“If she does, I scarcely see any hope of getting 
off scot-free ; she would be certain to suspect me, 
especially if the governor has mentioned our 
conversation the other morning. There’s the' 
bell! 1 had better go down; if she knows I’m 
in the dining-room she will make all the more 
haste.” 

Mrs. O’Hara was in the worst of tempers, but 
her stepdaughter was provokingly amiable. 

She accepted the scanty allowance of fat and 
lean which Mrs. O’Hara skillfully “pared” off 
the three days’ joint, with perfect equanimity, 
and drank the very “small” table-beer without a 
murmur. 

“We should have had a hot luncheon if you 
had not detained Quinlan all the morning. One 
would think you were packing for a trip to the 
colonies,” sneered the elder lady. 

“I devoutly wish I was,” answered Miss Em. 
“But there’s no such luck yet.” 

“In my young days,” continued her step- 
mother, “women were glad enough to stay by 
their own firesides, and not go trapesing over 
the world, inflicting themselves on strangers!” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps so, ’ ’ said Miss Em tranq uilly ; ‘ ‘ but 
the world has moved on apace since ‘3’our’ day 
and mine also. Besides, you are shooting a lit- 
tle wide of the mark when you call Lady Pat a 
‘stranger’; you forget she is my godmother.” 

“Judging from the rarity of her visits, it is she. 
who appears to forget that.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


119 


“Carrig-duve has lost its popularity,” observjed 
Miss Em. ‘ ‘ A thing unused may be ornamental ; 
it is seldom useful.” 

“Are you going to be away very long, my 
dear?” asked her father gently. 

“A month or two, so far as 1 know at present. 
But of course I’ll write to you, governor.” 

Mrs. O’Hara shuddered visibly; she hated 
slang terms, and took every opportunity of 
showing how obnoxious Miss Em’s mode of 
addressing her father was to her ears. 

“Your letters are like your visits,” she said 
coldly; “as rare — and as — ” 

“Unwelcome?” suggested Miss Em, seeing 
her pause for a word; “don’t hesitate to say 
what I know you feel. Truth is a well-known 
English virtue, and no one could ever accuse 
you of having kissed the Blarney stone.” 

“I hate shams and affectations!” asserted 
Mrs. O’Hara. 

Miss Em looked as if her stepmother’s likings 
were a matter of no importance, and turned in- 
quiring eyes upon the clock. 

“Isn’t your packing finished yet?” inquired 
the elder lady with affected astonishment. 

“Dear me, no! I have heaps of things to see 
to, but I won’t rob you of Quinlan again.” 

“You are really too considerate,” said Mrs. 
O’Hara, rising from the fable. “I hope you 
mean it, for she is all behind with her work, and 
I am going out to pay some visits this after- 
noon.” 

Miss Em looked up with unfeigned astonish- 


120 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


meiit. Rare indeed were her stepmother’s calls, 
unless some special motive — usually an ill-nat- 
ured one — prompted the civility. 

‘‘I owe Mrs. MacShamus a visit,” continued 
Mrs O’Hara, “and I shall take Mrs. Pigott on 
my way.” 

“Botheration to the woman!” muttered Miss 
Em savagely; “and I’d made up my mind to go 
to the doctor’s. 1 must borrow that money. 
Four pounds won’t be nearly enough. 

“This is Mrs. Pigott’s afternoon for the 
mothers’ meeting,” she said aloud; “so you 
had better call first on Mrs. MacShamus.” 

‘ ‘ I am quite as well acquainted with my neigh- 
bors’ affairs as you can be, Emilia,” was the re- 
joinder, “and I require no advice on the sub- 
ject;” and she took her angular form and rusty 
black draperies out of the room. 

“Peggy,” said her father timidly, as soon as 
they were alone, “I promised you a little money 
if I could manage it. ’Tis only three pounds, 
but you must make it do till it’s time for your 
allowance. You can’t be at much expense v/ith 
Lady Patricia. She’s very generous, and — and 
she understands how things are with us.” 

He held out the gold half apologetically to his 
daughter, but she took it with thankfulness. 

“I’m spoiling the Egyptians to some purpose,” 
she thought. “All the same, I’m sorry for tlie 
necessity ; poor old governor, he looks as fright- 
ened as if he had stolen the money!” 

Then she left the room to finish the labor of 
packing. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


121 


It was almost dark when she had locked and 
sealed and secured everything in a manner that 
satisfied herself; and throwing on a long dark 
cloak, and adjusting the neat traveling hat left 
ready for the morrow, she left the house for her 
visit to the doctor’s wife. 

She could not afford to be nervous now, though 
every rustling branch and chance shadow quick- 
ened her heartbeats to an uncomfortable extent. 
But whatever apprehensions she ha^j, nothing 
happened to support them, and she reached the 
well-known gate and passed from there to the 
safe vantage-point of the house with a sigh of 
relief. 

Mrs. MacShamus was alone, though it ap- 
peared that Miss Em had only missed her step- 
mother by some ten minutes. 

“I can’t stay very long. I’ve really only 
come to say good-by,” she saidj as the old lady 
entreated her to remove her wraps. “Is the 
doctor in?” 

“N’o, and 1 don’t expect him until late,” an- 
swered Mrs. MacShamus. “It is very provok- 
ing you should miss each other so often, for 1 
know he’s wanting to see you particularly. 
Why can’t you stay to dinner?” 

Miss Em shook her head decidedly. “It’s my 
last evening; I must go back.” 

“Well, I hope you’ll have a pleasant time, my 
dear. But you’re sure to with Lady Patricia. 
You’ll have lots to tell when you come back. I 
sliall be dying to hear about the Kellys’ ball. 
What are you going to wear, by the way?” 


122 


PEG, THE PtAKE. 


‘^My black satin — as I said before, I can’t 
afford a new dress.” 

“My dear, why didn’t you tell me? I’d gladly 
have lent you the money. ’ ’ 

“Well, the truth is I thought I’d have man- 
aged it from my father — but that’s impossible, 
and so — ” 

The old lady dived into her pocket and pro- 
duced her purse. “My dear, you’re more than 
welcome to this if it’s any use to you. There’s 
ten pounds, I think, and no hurry to pay it back 
— suit your own convenience as to that.” 

“A thousand thanks!” exclaimed Miss Em 
delightedly. “You’ve forestalled a request for 
merely half this sum. I feel ashamed to be 
asking it, but — ” 

“Ah, don’t I know all you’ve to put up with, 
Miss Em dear? You needn’t think you’re under 
any compliment to such an old friend as myself. 
So just make yourself happy, and say no more 
about it.” 

If Miss Em did say “no more about it” it was 
from no want of feeling. She was genuinely 
grateful, and the relief of being “well in funds” 
for her forthcoming journey was so intense that 
her heart glowed with goodwill to all the world. 

Perhaps, like Thackeray’s famous heroine, Miss 
\ Em felt at times that she could have been an 
embodiment of feminine nrtue on a thousand a 
year. It was only the perversity of circum- 
stances that had warped her nature, and spoiled 
much that was excellent in it. 

Love, generosity and self-sacrifice were all 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


12:3 


possible to her, even a certain amount of truth- 
fulness and candor; but, as she was wont to say 
in moments of expansive confidence, the two lat- 
ter virtues were only permissible to riah. and in- 
dependent folk. 

Yet as she went home now, after an affection- 
ate farewell to the kind-hearted doctor’s wife, she 
fe/' that litcle uncomfortable prick of conscience 
which is so lowering to one’s self-esteem, and so 
apt to spoil the content of success. 

There was a time when she would only have 
laughed at the maneuvers and schemes of the 
past week; now the momentary triumph evapo- 
rated so quickly that the odd and unusual sense 
of weariness almost frightened her. 

Was she growing old, really old? She thought 
of the face that looked at her sometimes, lined 
^ind haggard in its sad truthfulness;, she remem- 
bered the actual years that claimed her, despite 
the possible youthful ness that she at times 
achieved. 

A week hence in the brilliance of the Dublin 
season, or lured by the excitement of the gaming- 
table, she would be Peg the Rake once more; 
but in this chill wintry gloom it was only a very 
weary and heartsick woman who passed up the 
village street, the ghost of a brighter and fairer 
self, whose feet had once tripped along those self- 
same stones. 

As she reached the gates of Carrig-duve she 
paused and looked back at the dark and silent 
road stretching away into vague shadow. The 
sky, holding still a faint gleam of the departing 


124 


PEG, THE RA^E. 


twilight, seemed to drop over the distant hills, 
till suddenly the dusk rose up to meet it and shut 
it out from sight. 

That solitary figure passed through the gates 
and walked swiftly down the leafless avenue. 

“What fools we women are!” she thought 
with momentary bitterness; “we want and fear 
a thiug at the same time. I’ve been dreading a 
meeting and resolving to avoid it. Now that 
Fate has put it out of my power, I begin to re- 
gret. I can’t even hear anything. Why he is 
here? What the years have done for him? But 
perhaps it is best 1 should not; that page was 
closed forever long ago ! It would be worse than 
folly to reopen it. ” 

A faint wind ran like a shiver through the 
boughs. She looked up and saw the pale gleam 
of the new moon in the misty clouds. Some 
swift fancy of childhood flashed back and linked 
it with a wish to be granted. 

But the wish took so long to frame that the lit- 
tle f rail_sickle of light had been hurried back into 
the darkness before the thought had formulated 
desire into outward expression. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


125 


CHAPTER XI. 

EN ROUTE. 

JThe express was waiting, but it still wanted 
five minutes of the starting- time when the Car- 
rig-duve wagonette deposited Miss Em and her 
trunk and traveling- bag at the station. The 
shabby porter, to whose official mind she was 
endeared by the memory of many “tips,” at 
once hastened to relieve her of any responsibility 
concerning luggage. 

“The gintlemen are waitin’ on the platform, 
miss,” he said, touching his cap; “and I was to 
say they’d taken the tickets and engaged a 
carriage.” 

The becoming flush on Miss Em’s cheek deep- 
ened ever so little, but she only nodded; and 
slipping a half crown into the man’s hand, 
passed on. 

There were several people standing about on 
the platform. Her quick eye at once* distin- 
guished Paddy and his friend; but she gave a 
little start of surprise as she saw they were talk- 
ing to the Barrington girls and their cousin. 

“Gracious! I do hope they're not going,” 
she thought, as she advanced to the group and 
exchanged cordial greetings. 


126 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


The sharp feminine eyes took in every detail 
of her appearance, from the altered style of 
hairdressing to the neat and irreproachable 
chaussure. 

To the male mind Miss Em simply appeared 
“well got up,” and inspired that feeling of satis- 
faction which is connected with suitability of 
costume to occasion— a matter of more impor- 
tance than many women think. 

“Dear me, how are you all?” she cried genial- 
ly. “Going to Dublin also. Miss Barrington?” 

“jSTo,” answered Laura frankly; “I wish we 
were.” 

“We merely drove our cousin over,” inter- 
posed the elder sister stiffly; “he is summoned 
to Dublin on business for a few days.” 

“Oh,” said Miss Em, with one of her gracious, 
smiles, “that is an unexpected pleasure. Per- 
haps you will be at this famous ball after all, 
Mr. Barrington?” 

“He does not know the Kellys, ” 'answered 
Minnie sharply. 

“No?” queried Miss Em, with a flash of her 
eyes at the young man’s good-looking face. 
“Oh, but that could soon be remedied among us 
all, eh, Paddy? Why, we shall be quite a party 
going up. I hear you have engaged a carriage, ’ ’ 
she added, turning to Captain Kearney. 

“Yes, that one opposite” — he glanced at his 
watch^ — “only two minutes, Miss Em; we’d bet- 
ter be taking our seats. ” . _ 

She walked on at once. Major Baikes, whom 
she knew very slightly, having charged himself 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


127 


with her traveling-bag (in which were the dia- 
monds), and Paddy Kearney and young Phil 
Barrington following. 

. The sight was gall and wormwood to the two 
girls. If they could have found fault with her 
appearance it would have been some satisfaction; 
but Miss Em looked only a stylish, handsome 
and well-dressed woman of thirty or thereabouts, 
and as such the three men accepted her. 

“It’s perfectly disgusting the way she goes 
on!” exclaimed Minnie Barrington, savagely, as 
the train steamed out of the station; Miss Em 
gracious in smiles, and cordially waving her hand 
from the carriage window. “I can’t imagine 
what the men can see in her.” 

“Kor I,” agreed Laura; “an old thing of 
forty! Kot that she looks it, though,” she 
added with grudging frankness. “And if it’s 
‘make-up’ it’s uncommonly well done. Did you 
notice her hair?” 

“Of course; but I wasn’t going to say so. I 
wonder if that’s the new fashion?” 

“You- may be sure it is, and that she’s got it 
for this ball. I almost wish we v/ere going, 
Minnie.” 

“So do I, now; though they are snobs. I 
wonder if it’s true they’ve managed to hook the 
Lord Lieutenant.” ' 

“If they have you may be sure that old ‘stand- 
ard medlar’ will get hold of him and keep him 
beside her all the evening; she is without doubt 
the most audacious woman I ever met.” 

“But they are very good people to know, you 


128 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


know,” said her sister; ‘‘they come next the 
Lustrells, in spite, of financial eclipse.” 

“Poor as church mice, and as mean as Jews,” 
snapped the fair Minnie, savagely; “I simply 
detest them. The father is a fool, the second 
wife a miser, and Miss O’Hara herself an im- 
pudent adventuress!” 

“Some one talking badly of me,” laughed Miss 
Em, as the train sped along and one by one the 
familiar landmarks were passed. 

She touched one small glowing ear as if to em- 
phasize her words. 

“I can give a pretty good guess who it is,” 
said Paddy, significantly. 

“Surely Miss O’Hara can have no enemies, ” 
observed Major Raikes, with an admiring 
glance. 

“Indeed, but she has,” Miss Em answered for 
herself, “and plenty of them!” 

“Beauty and popularity must always arouse a 
certain amount of envy,” said young Barrington, 
gallantly. 

“Well, as to the first,” confessed Miss Em, 
frankly, “I’ve had my day, and I can’t com- 
plain. I’m willing enough to let every one have 
theirs, and I tell them so; but, -somehow,”- she 
added, refiectively, ‘‘straightforward courses 
don’t seem to take with women. If you 'tell 
them the truth they either suspect a motive, or 
don’t believe you.” 

“I often wonder, ’ ’ said Maj or Raikes, ‘ ‘ whether 
women ever tell us the truth about themselves. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


129 


If it’s unflattering we can’t believe it, and if the 
reverse we think they — 

“ You mustn’t judge individuals by generali- 
ties,” said Miss Em, “or the whole sex by a 
chance sample. I can tell you this, though — 
when young we are men’s hardest critics, and 
seldom grateful for their worship. It is only 
pain that makes youth merciful, or molds it into 
shape.” 

‘'That sounds a little cruel, ’ ’ said Paddy, think- 
ing doubtless of Molly Lustrell’s lovely face. 

“I’ve no doubt it does; truth is seldom pleas- 
ant to hear. ’ ’ 

“You mean to say, then, that a woman thinks 
more of a man who treats her badly, than of one 
who treats her well?” 

“I was speaking of girls,” said Miss Em, with 
an odd smile. “Surfeit them with love and flat- 
tery and admiration, and what do you gain? ’ In- 
difference, and possibly contempt. Let them feel 
you can do without them, that at all e\’'ents you 
can master yourself, and, if need be, them, and 
they are ready to adore you at once.” 

“Your words are golden, Miss O’Hara; I shall 
lay them to heart, ’’ ^aid Major Raikes. “How 
you must have studied your sex!” 

“Or — ours,” said Paddy Kearney. 

“Oh, you are all repetitions, and pipe to the 
same tune,” said Miss Em, sharply. “What 
wojnan gets rational treatment at your hands? 
She is an angel before you win her, and some- 
thing — very di ff erent — afterward ! W e say Irish- 
men make the best lovers; but our praise does 


130 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


not extend further, except in a few rare in- 
stances.” 

“Ihn sorry you’ve such a poor opinion of your 
countrymen,’” said Major Raikes, who was an 
enthusiastic admirer of the “sex” and an arrant 
flirt. “Do you think Englishmen are more con- 
stant, or more virtuous?” 

“Well, to tell you the truth, I do,” said Miss 
Em, gravely. “They have less personal charm 
but more solid virtues than Irishmen — safer and 
more reliable, 1 should pronounce them. Truer 
in feeling, if less flattering in expression. An 
Irishman carries you off your feet, so to speak; 
his passion rages like a summer storm; you are 
at once amazed at his audacity and flattered by 
his recklessness, yet you have an instinctive fear 
that the storm will pass quickly, and the reck- 
lessness turn to repentance.” 

“You are a severe critic, Miss O’Hara.” 

“Perhaps I’ve need to be. We can afford to 
criticise what we have never possessed.” 

“Some man’s loss, and your own cruelty spoke 
there. Miss Em,” said Paddy Kearney, auda- 
ciously. 

■ She laughed. ‘ ‘ Perhaps so ; but no lost heaven 
visits my dreams, Paddy. I’ve seen too many 
prospective paradises turned into gardens of deso- 
lation, to believe that the gates ever really open.” 

“To think they do is surely some consolation 
though,” said young Barrington, shyly. 

“Oh, all illusions are pleasant. They are the 
flowers among the weeds of life, only the pity is 
the weeds will grow apace and choke them out. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


131 


Talking of weeds, though” (and' she laughed 
merrily), “if any of you gentlemen would like 
to indulge in one at the present time 1 haven’t 
the least objection.” 

“What a dalnned sensible woman!” thought 
Major Raikes. “1 really must cultivate her ac- 
quaintance. I wonder if she has any money?” 

Cigars were produced by Paddy and himself 
— young Barrington did not smoke. 

“What consolations you men have!” observed 
Miss Em, presently — she had grown tired of look- 
ing out of the window at a landscape known by 
Jieart. “To swear or to smoke must hQ such s. 
relief in certain conditions of mind.” 

“You’re right there,” said Paddy. “ ‘A big 
swear’ is an immense relief to the feelings, though 
it sounds bad to say so. Doesn’t some writer 
call profanity ‘the safety-valve of human nat- 
ure’?” 

“All our passions are pagan,” remarked the 
major. “The heirlooms of a remote ancestry. 
1 often think there is an innate savageness in us 
that no civilization will ever stamp out.” 

“It has been tried pretty of ten, ” said Miss Em, 
“but the results don’t appear promising.” 

She looked out on the bare, bleak roads, the 
starved-looking ragged children, the wretched 
cabins and neglected fields, as if to emphasize 
her words. The three men followed her glance, 
and plunged into politics. The state of Ireland, 
the faults of a Government that neither could, 
would, nor should rule her, The short-sighted- 
ness of patriots, and the illogical obstinacy of 


132 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the lower classes. How well Miss Em knew it 
all ! How often she had heard the subject dis- 
cussed, and how hopeless seemed any attempts 
to restore order, or bring about prosperity or 
content ! 

“I’m not in any way prejudiced myself,” she 
said; “but I cannot, with any degree of truth, 
uphold the monstrous arguments that the coun- 
try sets up for independent government. A race 
so passionate, obstinate, and bombastical could 
no more govern themselves than a pack of school- 
boys.” 

“That’s fearfully true,” agreed the major. 
“Enthusiasts are seldom logical, and our repre- 
sentatives seem to lose their heads entirely once 
they begin to talk. 1 must say 1 never feel so 
ashamed of my countrymen as when I read an 
Irish speech in the House of Commons. The 
way that facts are misrepresented is only sur- 
passed by the effrontery that represents them.” 

“You know what Kingsley says of us?” said 
Miss Em; “that we are ‘liars ingrain,’ we can 
neither be trusted, nor trust each other. How 
can you expect justice in a country where no 
man’s word is to be depended on?” 

“That’s quite true,” said Paddy, eagerly. 
“Nine out of ten wouldn’t stick at a lie if it 
served a purpose. I don’t wonder Kingsley 
called us a ‘nation of liars.’ ” 

“Yet there was a simplicity and grandeur 
about the ‘good old Irish gentlemen,^ ” said the 
major, thoughtfully. “I remember my grand- 
father used to say that if we told more fibs than 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


133 


our cold-blooded neighbors across the Channel, 
we also believed more. Certainly for generosity 
and open-h^ndedness few men could beat him.” 

“The present race of ‘landed gentry’ are less 
inclined to laud those virtues than they used to 
be,” remarked Paddy. “Generosity and open- 
handedness in one’s ancestors have left but sorry 
legacies for their descendants.. The country gets 
poorer and more wretched with every generation. 
All the finer properties are going to rack and 
ruin. The owners won’t live here at all, and 
small blame to them when they can’t get their 
rents, and go in fear of their lives even for ask- 
ing for them.” 

“Do you think we should be any better off if 
we made our own laws?” asked Miss Em of the 
major. 

‘ ‘ Indeed, no ; worse, 1 should say. A century 
ago we had three hundred resident peers, a House 
of Commons, and a mayor and corporation in 
Dublin ; yet the capital was a disgrace to civiliza- 
tion, the country steeped in poverty and misery 
of every description, and the peasants as savage 
and brutal as the Russians of Warsaw. The 
streets of Dublin aud Cork were so dangerous 
that no woman, and indeed very few men, could 
walk in them after nightfall, and even carriages 
were scarcely safe from molestation on their way 
to or from an entertainment. The newspapers 
of the time are full of accounts of ruffianism and 
lawlessness. It was a case of a ruined, half- 
civilized nobility ruling, or trying to rule, a half- 
savage population ; and a national Government 


134 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


would only throw things back into the same dis- 
graceful condition.” 

“1 believe you’re right, Raikes,” said Paddy 
Kearney, who had listened thoughtfully to this 
harangue. “The truth is the Irish don’t know 
what is best for them, or what they really want. 
What they would like is probably an individual 
income, and perfect independence for «very one. 
But I’m afraid no Government, even a national 
one, could safely give them that.” 

There was a general laugh. 

“A millennial Ireland, in fact,” said Miss 
Em, “with the pope and the queen standing 
side by side saying, ‘Bless you, my children,’ 
and the nation at large singing the ‘Wearing of 
the Green,’ and the National Anthem in alter- 
nate verses! Mr. Gladstone will bring all that 
about some day. ” 

“Mr. Gladstone doesn’t know much of the 
realities "of Irish life,” said Paddy Kearney. 
“No one can who doesn’t live in the country— 
and then if he doesn’t adopt the laissez faire 
system and let everything take its own course 
and every one do exactly as^ he pleases, he’ll be- 
come unpopular. To attempt any reform is to 
wage war against a host of prejudices, religious 
and traditional, and to contend with difficulties 
that are simply overwhelming.” 

“It is a matter of extreme difficulty for any 
English person to get ak the real facts concern- 
ing your country, ’ ’ said young Barrington. “We 
get a general impression of dislike and discon- 
tent, of grievances real and imaginary, of fac- 


PEO^THE RAKE. 


135 


/ 

tions and contentions at once opposing and op- 
posed ; but what you really want, or would 
consider universally beneficial, it is impossible 
to discover.” 

“Probably for the reason _we don’t know it 
ourselves,” said Miss Em. “Erin is true to her 
sex in that peculiarity, and the poetic turbulence 
of her character.” 

“It seems a pity she can’t get along like other 
countries. And really she is her own worst 
enemy. She has discouraged every attempt at 
benefit, and exiled the wealthiest and noblest of 
her landed proprietors. No Irish landlord cares 
to live on his own estates any longer!” 

“No wonder, either!” said Paddy Kearney; 
“it is all very fine to blame absentees, but, faith, 
’tis a matter not-only of convenience, but of per- 
sonal safety with most of them. My uncle per- 
fectly hates Ireland, but he’s forced to live 
there now on account of the property, such as 
it is.” 

“He should sell it to an English family like 
the Markhams of Rivers Court, ’ ’ said Miss Em, 
sarcastically; “they would restore its -ancient 
splendor.” 

“I hear the Kellys are looking out for a prop- 
erty,” remarked Major Raikes. “Their Dublin 
mansion is not sufficient.” 

“We all meet there to-morrow night, don’t 
we?” said Miss Em. 

“I’m afraid I cannot hope for that privilege,” 
said Phil Barrington. 

“I’ll take you if you like,” said Paddy, good- 


136 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


naturedly; ‘‘I’ve carte blanche to bring my 
friends. ’ ’ 

“And I’ll give you a waltz,” laughed Miss 
Em. 

That's no small favor, let me assure you,” 
said Major Raikes. “Miss O’Hara’s dancing 
is divine, as I’ve had the pleasure of experienc- 
ing. May I beg to be equally honored?” he 
continued. 

‘ ‘ Certainly, if you can remember to claim the 
promise in time,” she answered, gayly. 

“And where are you staying in Dublin?” 

“At the Gresham, at first, with Lady Patricia 
Moira. You know her, do you not?” 

“Oh! very well indeed,” he answered, gayly. 
“She is charming, and her house is one of the 
few where one gets real enjoynoent.” 

“ She is not entertaining this season, I believe, ’ ’ 
said Miss Em; “she talks of going abroad.” 

“And I suppose you’ll accompany her?” sug- 
gested Paddy Kearney. 

“A consummation devoutly to be wished,” 
thought Miss Em. But aloud she only said, 
diplomatically: “It is not — impossible, Paddy.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


137 


CHAPTER XII. 

OPENING THE CAMPAIGN. 

/ 

Miss Em’s heart glowed with a feeling of sat- 
isfaction as the fly bore her along through Sack- 
ville Street and finally deposited her at the 
Gresham Hotel. 

“How one enjoys streets and shops after being 
buried in the. country!” she thought, as she stood 
in the brilliantly lighted portal and looked out at 
the bustle and crowd. Then, having seen her 
luggage brought in, and paid the flyman, she 
walked into the entrance hall. 

“Why — Anne!” she exclaimed delightedly 
as a stately personage in black silk and neat caj 
met her at the foot of the staircase. “How well 
you’re looking! How is Lady Patricia? you 
see I’ve arrived all safe.” 

“My lady is quite well, thank you. Miss 
O’Hara; she regretted she had to go out; but 
perhaps you won’t be sorry to rest after your 
journey? If you will kindly follow me I will 
show you your room. Allow me to take your 
bag.” 

“The same dear, prim old thing.’” thought 


138 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Miss Em, as sjie delivered up the precious trav- 
eling-bag with soniie reluctance. It had never 
been out of her sight for a single moment since 
she left Carrig-duve. She followed the black 
skirt and stately figure, and was presently ush- 
ered into a cozy bedroom, where a bright fire 
was burning, and a solitaire tea-set, arranged 
on a small table, gave an eloquent, if silent, 
promise of further comfort. 

Miss Em sank into the depths of a big chintz- 
covered easy-chair, a^nd drew off her gloves with 
a sigh of content. Anne relieved her of hat and 
cloak in the deft delightful manner of a superior 
lady’s maid, and then rang for the tea, which 
was immediately brought, 

“Shall I pour it out, miss, or will you?” asked 
Anne respectfully. 

“Oh, you do it,” answered MissTEm, bending 
toward the cheery blaze to warm her hands. 
“And don’t run away, Anne; it’s such an age 
since I’ve seen you. Ah, there’s my box,” she 
added, as the porter appeared and deposited her 
trunk “You’ll find what I require for this 
evening just on the top.” 

She handed over her keys and then gave her- 
self up to lazy enjoyment of her tea, while Anne 
busied herself over unpacking and arranging 
various garments. 

She had a great regard for Miss Em, and a 
great belief that she would one daj^ “achieve 
greatness” in some form or other, probably mat- 
rimonial. The sight of feminine frippery will 
make even the most frozen female heart unbend 


PEG,' THE RAKE. 139 

and become gracious. Anne’s manner gradually- 
lost- its stateliness, and her tongue unloosened 
itself. 

“You have not forgotten the ball to-morrow 
night. Miss O’Hara?” she asked anxiously, as 
no very festive attire revealed itself to her gaze 
among the dresses, cloaks, and underwear which 
she spread out on the bed previous to arranging 
in the drawers and wardrobes. 

“I should think not,” laughed Miss Em, 
watching her with lazy content. (It was so 
delightful to have these things done for you 
instead of having to do them yourself.) 

“Are you wondering about my dress?” she 
asked presently. “That’s it.” 

The stately Anne looked with dignified amaze- 
ment at the half- unpicked bodice which she had 
Just lifted out of the tray. “1 began to alter 
it,” continued Miss Em, “but 1 came to the con- 
clusion 1 had better leave it alone till P got here. 
It doesn’t look very promising, does it?” And 
she broke into a peal of unconstrained laughter 
at the expression of Anne’s face. 

“That’s so like you, Miss O’Hara,” said the 
lady’s maid, permitting herself the liberty of a 
smile. “I suppose you mean to get a ready- 
made dress at Madame Celestine’s, as you did 
before.” 

“Indeed, but I don’t,” said Miss Em quickly. 
“She palms off her misfits or returned orders on 
me, and I’m not going to stand it any longer. 
Seriously, Anne, that black satin will have to 
do. I’m going to borrow some of Lady Pa- 


140 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


fcricia’s lace, and you’ll see I shall look mag- 
nificent.” 

“I must say I never did see _a lady set off 
clothes as you do, Miss O’Hara,” remarked 
Anne, as she unfolded and shook out the black 
satin skirt; “but there’s a good deal of work to 
be done to this bodice before to-morrow night, 
though I’ll gladly do all in my power to get it 
ready. 

“Thank you, Anne,” said Miss Em gratefully. 
“But Lady Patricia told ine she had found out 
some dressmaker here who wasn’t above doing 
alterations, and if she can manage to fix this 
together by to-morrow night X needn’t trouble 
you.” 

“It’s never anything but a pleasure to do 
things for you. Miss O’Hara,” was the gracious 
response; “though 1 won’t deny I’m busy over 
my lady’s dress at present; still, if Mrs. Mahony 
can’t promise this in time I’ll manage it.” 

“You’re a treasure, Anne,” said Miss Em 
rapturously. “I feel quite safe when you’re 
within call. AVhat is your mistress going to 
wear?” she added suddenly. 

“Green velvet and jet, and her topaz orna- 
ments, miss. It’s a Paris go^n. I don’t think 
you’ve ever seen it.” 

“It sounds delicious,” said Miss Em; “but, 
dear me, the time is slipping away and I’ve a 
letter to write before I dress# Are there many 
people here, xlnne?” 

“Yes, miss; the hotel’s nearly full. This ball 
has brought a great many, but they dress very 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


141 


quiet for table d^hote. My lady generally wears 
black; what shall I put out for you?” she con- 
tinued, as she brought forward the writing-case 
and removed the tea-tray. 

“There’s not much choice,” said Miss Em 
lightly; “so I’ll leave it to you, Anne.” 

She busied herself for a few moments with her 
letter, which was simply an announcement of her 
safe arrival to her stepmother. 

Miss Em never omitted this formality, though 
she was perfectly aware it received little, if any, 
encouragement. She closed the envelope with a 
sigh of relief, and directed Anne to see to its 
postage. Scarcely had she done this when a 
knock at the door announced a visitor, and 
a handsome white-haired woman entered the 
room. 

This was Lady Patricia Moira, mostly known 
as Lady Pat to her large and miscellaneous cir- 
cle of friends, intimes ^ and society in general. 
She was a mandaine to her finger-tips, accom- 
plished, wealthy, and tolerably sincere; loving 
popularity above all things, and inclined to sacri- 
fice a great deal to obtain or retain it. 

Her greeting to Miss Em was very cordial. 
Indeed, if the truth be told, she had no greater 
favorite vthan this erratic and brilliant god- 
daughter, who had startled her by mad es- 
capades in youth, and was a source of constant 
marv^el to her in “years of discretion.” 

“Have you had tea? Has Anne made you 
comfortable?” asked Lady Pat, as she kissed her 
with warm affection. 


142 


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Miss Em assured her on both points ; and they 
stood the fire chatting on various matters till 
Anne had finished her task of arranging and 
hanging, and put out what she considered suita- 
ble “evening wear” for the table' d'hote. 

Then she retired to wait for her mistress, who 
was giving Miss Em a rapid sketch of her doings 
in Dublin, and of the engagements she had made 
for them both. 

“But the topic of the day is the Kellys’ ball,” 
she said in conclusion; “I wouldn’t have ha,d 
you miss it for the world. I’m sure you’ll say 
you haven’t been so amused for a long time 
What about your dress by-the-by?” she added, 
somewhat anxiously. 

Miss Em laughed. “Well, Anne doesn’t think 
much of it at present; but I’m coming out re- 
splendent in the O’Hara diamonds, and they’ll 
atone for a multitude of sins in the way of 
costume.” 

“Have you brought them? I’m so glad. 
There’s a stability and satisfaction about good 
old family jewels that inspire and give confi- 
dence. If time wasn’t so short, I was going to 
offer—” 

“Yes, I felt sure I could depend on you; but 
there’ll be such a crush, 1 hear, that a new dress 
would be quite thrown away. I’m going in for 
‘general effect.’ It’s safe, and it doesn’t excite 
envy or comment.” 

“We can leave splendor to the hostess, ’ ’ laughed 
Ladj^ Pat. “I suppose she’ll wear her presenta- 
tion dress. Purple velvet train over amethyst 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


143 


satin, my dear; a tower of feathers, and orna- 
ments, sapphires and diamonds.” 

“Sapphires! What! with such a colored 
gown?” 

“Yes,” nodded Lady Pat; “she’s never happy 
unless she empties the contents of her jewel-case 
over her abundant person. Isn’t it a mercy, 
Emilia, that I’ve never grown /a^.” 

“I doubt if even that could spoil ^ow,” said 
Miss Em, with an admiring glance. “You have 
such a way of carrying yourself. ’ ’ 

“Tut, tut,” said Lady Pat graciously; “no 
flattery, my dear, though that reminds me you’re 
looking very well. You’ve altered your style of 
hairdressing, I see.” 

“Yes, I was practicing for the benefit of the 
ball. What do you think of the result?” 

“A decided improvement; but there, 1 must 
run ofl and dress. The table d^hote is at seven 
sharp. You’ll be ready? I know what an un- 
punctual creature you are. ” 

“I’ll do my best,” said Miss Em. “Anne has 
saved me a good deal of trouble.” 

“I’ll send her in for the ‘finishing touches,’ ” 
said Lady Pat, and nodding gayly she left the 
rot>m. 

Miss Em and her godmother were only five 
minutes late, and the soup was still going its 
round as they took their seats at a reserved table 
in the large dining-room. 

Before the first course was over, Miss Em’s 
quick eyes had focused the noteworthy points 


144 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


and persons in the large assemblage, and her 
^ tongue gave satirical sketches of such peculiari- 
ties as struck her power of observation. 

She was at her best at such times, at least in 
the opinion of Lady Pat, who hated dullness, and 
liked nothing better than the swift summary of 
looks, manners and apparel, which set all these 
living puppets dancing before her, and spared 
her eyeglass all trouble during the progress of 
gastronomy. 

Suddenly Miss Em started. “Why, here come 
the Lustrells!” she exclaimed, as a man, long 
past middle age, with a delicate, peevish-looking 
face, and small keen eyes, advanced slowly up 
the room. 

He was accompanied by two ladies, and as 
thefr arrival seemed unexpected there was a little 
confusion with regard to places. 

Miss Em’s eyes interrogated Lady Pat, and 
received an affirmative response She gave a 
whispered order to the \^^aiter, and he hurried off 
to pilot the new arrivals to their table. 

“There’s plenty of room here,” said Lady Pat 
graciously; “and you are very welcome. Sir 
Jasper, if you lik^ to join us. When did you 
arrive?” 

“Yesterday, but we went to Bray to-day to 
see some friends,” said the old baronet, as they 
all shook hands. “I told them here we should 
not be back to dinner, but we caught our train 
and managed it. This is quite an unexpected 
pleasure, Miss O’Hara.” 

“I agree with you,” said Miss Em, with one 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


145 

of her flashing glances. ‘‘Why, it is ages since 
we met. Sir Jasper.” 

“You are such a runaway. Why, even this 
Christmas visit of yours hag lasted barely long 
enough for any one to know you were at home, ’ ’ 
said he graciously. 

“It would have been longer but for this great 
festivity which seems bringing us all to Dublin,” 
said Miss Em. “Molly is going, of course?” 

“Molly? oh yes, I’ve promised her a month of 
gayeties, and she won’t let me off.” 

His tone was not affable, and his expression 
one of supreme discontent. Indeed, Sir Jasper 
Lustrell was not remarkable for any special vir- 
tue or amiability, -and his outward courtesy was 
merely the thin veneer of a very cold and selfish 
nature. His sister, a pinched, hook-nosed per- 
son, with iron-gray hair severely banded, and a 
figure as_ stiff as the proverbial backboard, re- 
sembled him in point of selfishness, and added to 
that characteristic a sordid and narrow habit of 
mind that gave scant promise of an agreeable 
old age. Miss Em and herself had never been 
very friendly toward one another; and even un- 
der present amenities there was a good deal of 
acidity underlying the politeness they preserved 
in speaking. Molly was generally very quiet 
and subdued in the presence of her aunt, who 
argued that the young generation of the present 
day were of a forward and independent nature, 
and required rigorous “keeping under.” 

The progress of dinner, and the satisfactori- 
ness of the menu^ appeared to have an agreeable 


146 


PEG, THE RAKE 


effect upon Sir Jasper. He smiled at Miss Em’s 
brilliant sallies and unbent quite graciously to 
her badinage, while Lady Pat and Miss Lustrell 
exchanged cut and dried phrases respecting the 
country, the weather, and other popular subjects. 

With the dessert, and the excellent bottle of 
Burgundy that he reserved for his own delecta- 
tion, Sir Jasper allowed himself to be drawn into 
a wider communicativeness respecting plans and 
intentions. Miss Em speedily discovered that he 
had nothing in view for that evening, and a tele- 
graphic glance to Lady Pat said as plainly as 
words— “Whist?” 

The quick response that suggested an adjourn- 
ment to that lady’s sitting-room for a “quiet 
rubber” just hit the baronet’s humor, though it 
afforded no very lively prospect to Molly, who 
not only was the “odd man out” of the occa- 
sion, but hated cards with all her heart. 

“I declare,” thought Lady Pat as they left the 
dining-room, “it might come to something. I 
wonder if she has given it a thought? I should 
like to see her well married after all, and this 
would be a most suitable match. Shall I give 
her a hint, or leave things to themselves?” 

Her glance rested reflectively on Miss Em. 
Rarely had she looked better or her years less 
self-betraying than on this evening. Lady Pat 
resolved to leave things alone unless Miss Em 
alluded to the subject. She was not a very easy 
person to deal with, and had broken off two or 
three very promising “affairs” in a sudden fit of 
temper or caprice 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


147 


It was very disappointing. Lady Pat had 
felt it to be so, and not scrupled to say it. To 
“marry well’^ was a duty every woman owed to 
herself, especially if she possessed birth and 
beauty. 

She herself, the youngest daughter of an im- 
poverished peer, had made a wealthy marriage 
at seventeen and never regretted it, despite an 
entire absence of sentiment on her own part. 
But then Lady Pat possessed one of those happily 
constituted natures that can make its own ambi- 
tions or its own successes of sufficient interest to 
engross a lifetime. 

She adored society, and it adored her. She 
had traveled much, read much, and studied all 
grades and conditions of men. Women, and 
morals. At sixty years of age she was still far 
from being weary of life, and kept herself in 
touch with every social and political event of the 
day. Wit and genius found a ready admission 
to her salons. Dullness she considered the great- 
est fault in man or woman. The French and the 
Irish, she was wont to declare, wei’e the only two 
nations who had any esprit left, and were en- 
tertaining enough to be entertained. 

She did not particularly care for the Lustrells, 
but having nothing to do this evening she was 
quite willing to give in to Miss Em’s evident de- 
sire for cards. 

The suggestion had been what Miss Em termed 
one of her “lucky shots”; for Sir Jasper was 
an appreciative whist player as well as a good 
one, and the fact of having so satisfactory a 


148 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


partner put him into a most genial frame of 
mind. 

With the advance of years he had become in- 
tensely critical with regard to women. He ac- 
knowledged to himself for a long time he had not 
met with such agreeable companions as on this 
evening; though he had known Miss Em for 
years the acquaintance had never ripened into 
intimacy, and he had formed no decided opinion 
about her. But a woman who was of that satis- 
factory age, when vanity and frivolity have passed 
into the background, who was moreover a good 
talker, and an excellent card player, was decided- 
ly a woman to be cultivated; and his compli- 
ments assumed a deferential as well as flattering 
tendency that made his sister’s expression grow 
more acidulated, and caused Ladj* Pat to inter- 
rogate Miss Em’s gray eyes with considerable 
curiosity. 

Molly noticed nothing, only sat by the fire with 
a thrilling three- volume novel in her hand, and 
wondered whatever people could find in cards to 
interest them ! 

Lady Pat lost games and money with the ut- 
most serenity. The evrents of the evening being 
altogether unexpected, and yet ominous with 
future results, were quite sufficient to interest 
her; and while losing trick after trick she was 
mentally calculating the worth of a trump^card 
held by Sir Jasper, and representing no less im- 
portant a place than Castle Lustrell itself. 

“He has been a widower a long time, and he’s 
arrived at a time of life when marr3^iug and re- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


149 


penting are all that are left for a man with his 
reputation,’^ she thought. “It would suit ad- 
mirably if Emilia would only look at it in a rea- 
sonable frame of mind. But one never knows 
how far to trust her, or when she will break out 
into one of her mad freaks; she is such a perfect 
O’Hara in that respect.” 

The “perfect O’Hara” was just theij in- 
dulging in one of her reckless confessions. 
“Love cards, Sir Jasper? I should think I 
did; I’d play all .day and all night if 1 had 
the chance. ’ ’ 

“My dear Em!” and Lady Pat’s foot gave a 
warning touch under the table. “That’s a burst 
of Irish enthusiasm, Sir Jasper. Why, some- 
times she won’t touch a card from month’s enJ 
to month’s end.” 

“Because I know it’s dangerous,” said Miss 
Em. “When the stakes are material I’m afraid 
to trust myself. Don’t I possess an ancestress 
who staked herself to a man she hated; yes, and 
lost and was obliged to marry him? And look 
at Aunt Bedelia, why — ” 

“Oh, dear me! she’ll spoil everything,” 
thought Lady Pat, distressfully. 

“Miss Bedelia O’Hara?” questioned Sir Jas- 
per, suavely. “Oh, a delightful old lady! I en- 
joy her society immensely. She knows every 
one and everything, and is the most charming 
company possible.” 

“Has she ever asked you to dinner?^’ inquired 
Miss Em, with a sly glance. “If so, and you 
have gone through the martyrdom of tasting one 


150 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


of her ‘surprises,’ I marvel you have so good an 
opinion of her. ” 

“She has asked me several times,” he an- 
swered, dryly, “but I have never been able to 
accept the invitation.” 

“Well, don’t — if you are wise,” laughed Miss 
Em. “She has one little weakness, as all her 
friends know to their cost. She always invents 
one special dish of her own as the piece de re- 
sistance, and each guest is bound to taste it. 
Never by any chance has it turned out as it was 
expected to do, and ought to have done ; but the 
dear old soul goes on inventing and concocting 
with what she imagines fo be the inventive genius 
of a Francatelli.” 

“It is extraordinary how few dinner-parties 
are successful,” put in Lady Pat. “People 
either invite too large a party to be social, or too 
small a one to assimilate agreeably. There are 
few forms of entertainment that require so much 
thinking out, and as a rule get so little. Don’t 
you agree with me, Miss Lustrell?” 

Miss Lustrell did so with an undiminished 
acerbity of demeanor that did not give an im- 
pression of her’ own successes in that line; but 
Lady Pat was only desirous of turning the con- 
versation from the dangerous topic of “gam- 
bling.” Miss Bedelia O’Hara was noted for her 
propensities, and she considered it a most ill-ad- 
vised proceeding on Miss Em’s part to allude to 
kindred tastes. ‘ 

This was the sort of undiplomatic conduct 
which had ruined so many of her best chances, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


161 


and now left her stranded on the very borders of 
“old maidism.” It was one thing to play an 
admirable game of whist — men of Sir’ Jasper’s 
age and standing would regard that as a desir- 
able accomplishment-^but gambling in that reck- 
less, mutinous fashion which Miss Em indulged 
in when what she termed the “fit was on her” — 
that was altogether a different matter, something 
to be kept in the background, not advertised un- 
blushingly. 

Miss Em was quick enough at taking hints 
when it suited her, and some curious form of 
mental telepathy assured her of what was pass- 
ing in Lady Pat’s mind, and for a few moments 
kept her on a debatable ground of “pros and 
cons.” 

Was it possible? .... Could Sir Jasper be 
brought to think seriously of a second marriage 
. . . . and of herself as the future Lady Lus- 
trell? It was a consideration not to be lightly 
dismissed, an ambition worthy even of the last 
of the O’Haras. Position, wealth, freedom, 
prospective triumph over many foes, each and 
all of these seemed to lurk in the admiration of 
those cold blue eyes, the courteous compliments 
of those thin, satirical lips. Sir J asper was not 
popular. His selfishness was proverbial, and the 
records of his past anything .but— unblemished. 
Bat for all that he would make a desirable hus- 
band to any woman, fortuneless, and neither 
young nor romantic enough to expect too much 
of her bargain. 

Graver and more thoughtful grew Miss Em’s 


152 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


face. Sir Jasper was intently watching the 
^ame. His fine straight brows were knitted, 
his mind absorbed by a stroke of finesse that 
would determine the result. 

‘‘Six — we only want the odd trick,” and his 
eyes met those of his partner. 

“It is. mine!” said Miss Em, with triumph, as 
she placed the queen of trumps on the green cloth. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“Come into my room and have a chat,” said 
Lady Pat, after their guests had left. '“It is 
quite early, and I’m sure you’re not tired.” 

“Not in the least,” agreed Miss Em, follow- 
ing her into the lofty well-appointed bedroom 
where the faithful Anne was seated at work on 
the much-discussed bodice, destined to emerge 
from its chrysalis condition on the following 
night. 

Miss Em’s eyes rested on it with wondering 
admiration. “You’ve lent me your lace, Lady 
Pat! How kind of you!” she exclaimed raptur- 
ously. “What do you think of it now — Anne?’' 

Anne was of opinion that it would do no dis 
credit to the wearer, if a process known as “try- 
ing on” resulted'in unanimous satisfaction. 

“Black is such safe wear!” said Miss Em, 
yielding to the “process,” and surveying her 
dazzling white shoulders and arms with pardon- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


153 


“You keep your figure wonderfully, Emilia,” 
remarked her godmother. “But be careful; 
you’ll be ruined once you grow stout.” 

She put herself into Anne’s hands to be made 
“c6mfortable” as she expressed it, and wrapped 
a warm loose dressing-gown about her before 
subsiding into the cozy padded chair by the fire. 

Anne retired; but presently returned with a 
tray bearing two glasses of some fragrant steam- 
ing beverage, prepared from a special receipt of 
her mistress, and supposed to contain marvelous 
properties termed “nerve soothing.” 

"With her arched insteps on the fender- bar, and 
her lips ever and anon inclined toward the fra- 
grant stimulant, Lady Pat unbent, and became 
a genial and altogether delightful companion. 

The conversation, at first desultory and con- 
sisting of questions and answers, settled itself 
finally into a discussion, the germ of which ap- 
peared to be Sir Jasper’s unwonted attentions of 
that evening. 

“Why don’t you think about the matter, my 
dear? it would be most suitable in every way,” 
asked Lady Pat; “you would hold a splendid 
position, none better in the county, and what a 
triumph over your stepmother!” 

“Yes, there are advantages,” agreed Miss 
Em. “But he’s such a selfish, cynical old thing, 
I’m afraid we should quarrel dreadfully. He’d 
want to rule, and a man of his age and with his 
experience is sure to be tyrannical.” 

“My dear child, you can’t have everything. 
You’ve been going on for years exemplifying the 


154 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


fable of the ‘orooked stick. ’ Tliere may be worse 
crutches than Sir Jasper Lustreli.’^ 

“Sabina and I hate each other,” said Miss 
Em. 

“Well, you’ll be mistress, and can easily get 
rid of her, I’m sure if you’ll only take a little 
trouble, you will have Sir Jasper at your feet. 
There was no mistaking his looks to-night.” 

“Do you really think,” asked Miss Em sud- 
denly, “really and honestly, that it would be 
better for me to marry? 1 have reached that de- 
batable ground when life seems to offer me even 
chances of content. In a way I’m my own mis- 
tress. It is true home is very uncomfortable, 
and money less procurable than I could desire; 
still — I shouldn’t care to place my neck under 
the heel of a selfish old voluptuary like Sir 
Jasper.” 

“A woman,” replied Lady Pat, “can always 
manage a man if she likes to give herself the 
^ trouble.” 

Miss Em shrugged her handsome shoulders 
with some impatience. 

, “That’s no answer to my question. I’ve never 
believed in jumping at an offer simply as an ex- 
t.'hange of condition. I’ve always looked with 
contempt at the curious readiness with which 
'women will take any male creature for a hus- 
band. To me, it argues a want of self-respect.” 

“You err on the side of over-fastidiousness,” 
said Lady Pat. “I really do think it would be 
better for you to marry. At present, your posi- 
tion lacks stability, and much that you do and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


155 


have done is liable to misrepresentation. A 
brilliant marriage, and such a position as Sir 
Jasper can give you, are advantages j^ou cannot 
afford to reject.” 

“It is just the ‘advantages’ 1 am afraid of. I 
don’t know how he would bestow them, and I 
am not disposed to accept benevolence as a sort 
of state-trapping that only reflects- digni ty on the 
giver.” 

“That foolish O’Hara pride!” remarked Lady 
Pat. 

“You have often commended it, my dear 
godmother.” 

“If the question in point was of a mesalli- 
ance^ I might do so again,-” answered Lady 
Pat. “But not for years have. I met with so de- 
sirable a chance for you, and 1 do really entreat 
you to consider the matter seriously. ’ ’ 

A sudden hot flush swept over Miss Em’s face. 
She sat quite still, curiously still indeed, as if all 
her will was concentrated on the effort to appear 
unmoved. 

“I daresay he means nothing,” she said at 
last. “He is not a marrying man, and I really 
fail to see what benefit he would gain.” 

“A handsome wife of unexceptionable birth, 
and a companion he would be capable of appre- 
ciating. Believe me, my dear. Sir Jasper is 
neither too old nor too cynical to be blind to your 
value. He knows you are sensible and well 
gifted; you have corresponding advantages to 
those he proffers, and need not consider yourself 
the only person benefited.”. 


156 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


She sipped the contents of her glass with a 
satisfied air, and replaced it on the silver tray. 

‘ ‘ Think it over, ’ ^ she repeated. ‘ ‘ I have neveT 
advised you but for 3^our good. Above all, it 
this chance should fall to your lot, consider wdiat 
a triumph over Madam O’Hara the second ! You 
would be the great lady of the county.” 

“That seems your main argument,” laughed 
Miss Em. “Don’t you think some triumphs ex- 
act a heavier price than they are worth? If I 
quarrel with Madam Skinflint, 1 can at least 
manage to beat a retreat ; but if I adopt the yoke 
of matrimony, I shall have to wear it, whatever 
betides.” 

“Can’t you take life easily— yet?” said Lady 
Pat, leaning back in her chair, and surveying 
her slender feet and satin slippers with cheerful 
approval. “To worry about real grievances is 
bad enough, but about possible ones is worse 
than foolish. The great art of content is to glide 
through life without attempting to scale its 
heights or pierce its depths. Tragedy brings 
wrinkles. The mystery of life and its general 
topsy-turveydoms are things no amount of ‘tak- 
ing thought’ can explain, or do awa^^ with. By 
the way, you said in your letter there was some- 
thing you wished to consult me about.” 

(“Ye gods! so I did,” thought Miss Em. 
“Now come to my aid, powers of invention I 
What am I to say?”) / 

“It can stand over for to-night, dear, ' she 
said with a suggested ya'wn. “It is not fair to 
keep 3"ou up discussing my poor little worries 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


157 


and troubles. You, too, bad some suggestion to 
make to me, but perhaps both had better remain 
undiscdssed till after the ball.” 

“1 think you are right,” agreed Lady Pat, 
“though a very few words would detail my 
plan, which was simply to ask you to go abroad 
with me for a couple of months. However,” 
and she laughed gayly, “1 should prefer to 
marry you to Sir Jasper, so we won^t decide 
upon that point till we see how affairs promise?’ 

She rose as she finished speaking, and Miss 
Em did the same. 

“Sir Jasper is actually going to the ball, he 
told me. Now, when a man of his ag’e does 
such a thing it argues there is a strong reason 
for it. My experience is a wide one, Emilia, 
and I am sure that after to-morrow night it 
will only rest with yourself to win, or lose him.” 

? Might he not be going for Molly’s sake?” 
suggested Miss Em. “Paddy Kearney is to be 
there, and she will need a dragon of some sort?’ 

“I hope,” said Lady Pat severely, “that you 
will be prudent for once, and not flirt with that 
young man in the reckless fashion you generally 
do. I warn you it will ruin your chance with 
Sir Jasper.” 

“Oh, a fig for Sir Jasper!” cried Miss Em 
recklessly. “I’ll dance with Paddy all night if 
it pleases me. He’s the best waltzer in Dublin, 
and a ball is a ball, you know.” 

“And what about a good chance of settling 
down and ending your reckless, roving, knock- 
about life?” 


158 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“I’m not sure I should be half so happy if I 
were what the lawyers term ‘strictly tied up.’ ” 

“Emilia, you are incorrigible; you even try 
my patience, and you must allow it is con- 
siderable.” 

“Dear Lady Patj^” she said with sudden com- 
punction, “you have been always far too good to 
me, and I know I’m not worth troubling your 
head about.” 

“We won’t talk about that, Emilia; I only 
ask a little prudence and common sense at your 
hands, and that you will consider this matter 
less flippantly than you have other offers. It is 
for your own good I speak, and I am sure you 
will be grateful to me one day for the advice.” 

“I am sure of that too,” said Miss Em warm- 
ly, “and I’ll promise to give the weighty matter 
my fullest consideration. All the same we are 
crediting Sir Jasper with intentions that may 
have no place at all in his mind.” 

Lady Pat nodded significantly.' “My dear, I 
know men. He is thinking about you with the 
utmost seriousness. I wish you would follow 
his example.” 

“I have never been able to take myself seri- 
ously yet. Lady Pat. It would be a hopeless 
task to begin now.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that, Emilia.” 

“As for Sir Jasper,” laughed Miss Em, “he, 
I grant you, might be regarded as a solemn sub- 
ject; but I’ve had enough of him for to-night. 
How pleased he looked when I got that ‘odd 
trick,’ didn’t he? If he had known what was 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


159 


in my mind — ” she paused, her face looked 
strangely white. “Enough, enough!” she cried 
suddenly with one of those rapid changes of 
manner that puzzled even those who knew her 
best. “Let "US see what to-morrow will bring 
forth!” 

“To-morrow!” echoed Lady Pat. “Ah, my 
dear, you always had faith in the future. To- 
morrow is like the veiled* goddess of the Greeks. 
We may fancy a smile on her lips, but are all 
unconscious of the doom in her eyes.” 

Miss Em possessed even more than the aver- 
age share of impulsiveness and variability of her 
sex. It seemed that whatever training life had 
given her, had not been sufficiently coercive to 
tame these rebellious instincts, even when expe- 
diency clamored its loudest. 

No one knew this better than herself, and yet 
the knowledge with all its practical lessons had 
been wasted again and again. 

The probabilities were in favor of her usual 
recklessness ou the night of the eventful ball, as, 
“armed for the fray” to use her own expression, 
she stood surveying two large bouquets which 
Anne had just brought her. 

One bore the name of Major Raikes, the other 
that of Sir Jasper Lustrell. 

Accompanying these was also a substantial _ 
parcel, which on being opened resolved itself, 
into a Russia leather glove-box, filled with laven- 
der and pale gray gloves from the renowned 
Supple’s emporium. Miss Em’s eyes sparkled 


160 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


with delight as they tell on this acceptable 
cadeaux . , 

“The darling boy!” she exclaimed rapturous- 
ly, as she drew pair after pair of the dainty arti- 
cles from iheir silver papers. “How thoughtful 
and how much more sensible than flowers! 
They are all very well for girls like Molly, but 
I vote for use before sentiment now, in the way 
of presents.” 

She selected a lavender-hued pair which would 
go admirably with her toilet, and then gave her 
attention to the bouquets. Sir Jasper’s did not 
please her taste at all. It was composed of red 
and white camellias, arranged with the stiffness 
inseparable from their nature. She threw it aside 
after regarding the “effect” in the long pier glass. 
Her own appearance was very satisfactory. 

The simple flowing lines of black satin draped 
her tall well-shaped figure to advantage, the low- 
cut bodice relieved by exquisite lace, and starred 
with diamonds, framed her shapely shoulders 
and perfect bust in a manner that did infinite 
credit, to Anne’s skill. The necklace at her 
throat, and the spray glittering in her soft brown 
hair, still further enhanced her undoubted claim 
to good looks, and made her no mean rival to the 
youth and beauty she would soon encounter. 

Whatever she owed to art, the delicate flush 
on her cheeks was supremely becoming, and her 
natural high spirits and love of excitement gave 
brilliance to the dark gray eyes, and expression 
to the mobile lips whose sensitive nerves could so 
readily exchange gravity for smiles. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


161 


“Certainly I haven’t looked better any time in 
the^e last ten years,” she thought, as she sur- 
veyed herself with critical scrutiny. “Those 
flowers of Major Raikes are just the very thing 
I wanted. “What a lovely idea, the white and 
green, and the ribbons to match! They don’t 
clash with anything, but I suppose — ” 

The supposition was cut short by the entrance 
of Lady Patricia, resplendent in emerald green 
velvet, her throat and bosom veiled in delicate 
lace, among whose folds sparkled the luster of 
topaz and brilliant. 

Miss Em surveyed her with rapture. 

“You look like a beautiful old fairy!” she ex- 
claimed. “I feel — extinguished.” 

“You have no need to do so,” laughed her 
godmother; “but it is time for us to go, and 1 
came to see if you were ready. How charming 
those flowers look! I’ve always heard Sir Jas- 
,per had good taste.” 

“These are not Sir Jasper’s at all,” answered 
Miss Em lugubriously; “I wish they were. It’s 
so horrid to have to make one’s choice. These 
odious camellias are what he sent. I really 
can’t sacrifice myself to them.” 

‘ ‘ Who sent the others T ’ asked Lady Pat sharply, 

“Major Raikes. You know him; he is de- 
lightful.” 

“Yes, but impecunious, and not a marrying 
man. I’m afraid you’ll have to make the sacri- 
fice, my dear. You need only appear with the 
camellias after all. They are easily lost or mis- 
laid after the first dance,” 


162 


PEG, THE KAKE. 


Miss Em made a grimace. “Odious things! 
what could have made him choose them? As 
for appearing with tliem, why, that is exactly 
what I object to. No, my dear godmother, you 
mustn’t ask me. I’ll sit out some dances with 
him, or let him take me in to supper, but wear 
these flowers I won't. 

“That is so like you, Emilia,” said Lady Pat, 
in a tone of vexation; “always spoiling some 
good chance by a whim. Can’t you forego vmn- 
ityfor once, and learn the policy of expediency?” 

“It isn’t vanity, it is a question of taste,” said 
Miss Em, provokingly, as she placed the two 
bouquets side by side. “Besides,” she added, 
as she threw the camellias on the dressing-table 
with a disdainful gesture, “it is very much bet- 
ter to let a man see you don’t care too much for 
his attentions. Expediency is not always the 
best policy. Lady Pat, and there is a certain 
meanness about it that sets me in revolt.” 

“Well, well, you must do what you please,” 
said Lady Pat, diplomatically; “only it is an 
obvious slight to Sir Jasper to leave his flowers 
behind.” 

“I’ll say they came too late.” 

“You may be sure he’ll take pains to ascertain 
the fact; not a difficult one, either, considering 
he is staying at the same hotel.” 

“Then I’ll tell him the plain truth for once,” 
exclaimed Miss Em, “and say they didn’t suit 
my dress. It would be as refreshing for him to 
hear, as for me to speak it. It’s wonderful how 
long we accept shams, but a day comes when wo 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


163 


get sick of them. The acid of the lemon is an 
agreeable change after a surfeit of sugar.” 

“I should think Sir Jasper was rather a dan- 
gerous subject for an experiment of that nature,” 
said Lady Pat, beginning t'j draw on her gloves, 
and giving a significant glance at the clock on 
the mantel-piece. 

‘‘And I’m engaged for the first waltz to Paddy 
Kearney ! I had almost forgotten, and he after 
sending me ail these delicious gloves, too!” cried 
Miss Em. 

She snatched up her wraps, and taking the 
white and green bouquet in her hand, followed 
Lady Pat from the room, gayly humming a 
waltz. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

“ Of revel ry'by n^^ht.” 

The purple - clad dowager, whose nodding 
plumes graced her welcome to the “all sorts 
and conditions” of men and women crowding 
up her staircase, was quite unconscious of the 
amusement she created in Miss Em’s mind, or 
the satirical comments of Lady Pat. 

All the worry and expense, the heart-burnings 
and maneuvers, and fears and anxieties of the 
past fortnight were forgotten in the glory of the 
present triumph. Every titled name her footmen 
" shouted gave Mrs. Kelly a thrill of ecstasy, while 
adding to the nervoasness of the stout vulgar- 


164 


PEG, THE KAKE. 


looking man by her side, who fidgeted with his 
gloves, and mopped his brow from time to time 
with a handkerchief that, as Miss I^m said, one 
felt ought to be of red cotton ! 

“Why is it that in any social function needing 
dress and display, women carry things off so 
much better than men?” she whispered to Lady 
Pat, as she watched their hostess delightedly. 

“I can only put it down to the satisfaction we 
derive from dress,” answered Lady Pat. “A 
skirt from Worth or Elise will carry a woman 
triumphantly through any ordeal. It is a badge 
of superiority before which all the virtues may 
shrink abashed.” 

“It is a very delightful badge,” said Miss Em, 
glancing at the gorgeous gowns and peacock-like 
trains that swept to and fro the brilliant ball- 
room, mingling here and there with the simpler 
fabrics of muslin and tulle worn by debutantes 
and youthful belles. 

“They’ve done it very well,” said Lady Pat, 
raising her lorgnette to survey the masses of 
flowers banked and wreathed wherever the eye 
could rest, and filling the air with fragrance. 
“A little too much glare; perhaps; subdued lights 
are so much more becoming, especially wdien com 
plexions are not quite safe.” 

Miss Em felt a little pang of uneasiness at the 
remark, which was not set at rest until a favor- 
ing mirror assured her it could not possibly have 
been meant for her. 

That delicate touch of pink, that faint soften- 
ing bloom of veloutine defied any stricture coarser 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


165 


than “improvement” when viewed beside the 
vulgar daubing, and eye kohling, and ruby-red- 
dened lips that the unsoftened light displayed in 
all directions. 

If she had needed further confirmation on the 
point she gained it in the flattering glance of her 
“trio,” as she called them, who at this moment 
marched up to greet her and her chaperon, and 
claim various dances at her hand. 

“Certainly three .as fine-looking men as one 
would wish to see,” thought Lady Pat. “1 
wonder how Emilia always manages to keep a 
staff of admirers about her, and such very credi- 
table ones, too!” 

Her attention was called off at this moment 
by the entrance of the Lusti^ll party, who im- 
mediately attached themselves to her, 

“Miss O’Hara? Oh, yes, there she is dancing 
with your nephew, ’ ’ she said in answer to Sir J as- 
per’s inquiries; and then noting Phil Barrington’s 
admiring glance at Molly, she at once introduced 
them to each other, and sent them whirling off 
to the strains of the Doctr inert Waltz, while she 
and Sir Jasper seated themselves on a convenient 
and comfortable settee, that commanded a view 
of the ballroom. 

“How beautifully Miss O’Hara dances!” re- 
marked Sir Jasper, as Miss Em floated past on 
Paddy Kearney’s arm. 

“She does most things well,” said Lady Pat, 
quietly. 

“Indeed, I am sure of that,” he answered, 
with ready acquiescence; “she is a most accom- 


166 PEG, THE RAKE. 

plislied woman. I am sorry my dancing days 
are over,” he added, regretfully. “1 fear I shall 
have but little opportunity of enjoying her so- 
ciety to-night.” 

A smile from gray eyes, a flash of white teeth, 
and Miss Em swept away once more into the 
mazy circle. 

Sir Jasper \yas conscious of something very 
like envy in his selfish heart as he watched her. 
He had come to this ball greatly against his in- 
clinations, but had administered consolation to 
himself by reflecting that he would have a de- 
lightful and congenial companion for the greater 
part of the evening. But he had never antici- 
pated hginding over that companion to a host of 
younger rivals, or receiving at her hands so de- 
cided a hint that whatever time had done for 
it had not as yet been cruel enough to 
“wither or stale her infinite variety.” 

For 5'ears Sir Jasper had not experienced so 
genuine an emotion as when she returned and 
greeted him with the light flow of badinage and 
good-humor that made even nonsense charming, 
though, as Lady Pat declared afterward, it sent 
cold shivers down her back. 

But Miss Em was in no mood for any stately 
pastoral; she wanted her shepherds to pipe and 
dance and share her own gayety; and presently, 
when Major Raikes appeared on the scene, she 
gave full rein to her reckless spirits, and quite 
ignored the elderly valetudinarian by her side. 

Sir Jasper’s delicate, peevish face began to 
show signs of dissatisfaction. He had no sym- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


167 


pathy with enjoyments from which he was ex- 
cluded, and the programme he had sketched out 
for himself was entirely altered. Not all Lady 
Pat’s tact and energy could soothe his ruffled 
plumes ; and though his ill-humor was a tribute to 
her perspicacity it was also a source of annoyance. 

“Really,” she thought, in vexation, “Emilia 
ought to have more sense than to play fast and 
loose with such a chance. All Major Raikes’s 
attentions count for nothing ; he can never marry 
her; but there — she was always the same.” 

However, she chatted on about a thousand 
trifles, her project for spending the rest of the 
winter abroad among them, and hinted at the 
probability of her god - daughter’s accompany- 
ing her. 

She was keen enough to notice the interest he 
took in her plans, and her hopes kindled afresh. 

The next time Miss Em joined them Sir Jasper 
asked permission to take her down to supper, and 
greatly to Lady Pat’s relief she consented. Her 
motive was twofold, as she had promised to give 
Paddy Kearney an opportunity of a quiet talk 
with Molly, free from parental supervision. 
With her presence and acceptance of his offer 
Sir Jasper’s ill-humor apparently vanished; and 
as Miss Em announced her intention of sitting 
out the set of quadrilles then in progress Lady 
Pat left them to their own devices and moved 
away to speak to some other friends. 

“I am sorry to see my flowers did not please 
you,” remarked the old baronet, with a glance 
at the bouquet in her hand. 


168 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


^‘Indeed, they pleased me very well,” she an- 
swered, readily, ‘‘but they did not suit my dress, 
so I arranged them for my own private gratifica- 
tion instead of bringing them to wither in these 
hot rooms. I think,” and she glanced demurely 
at the pleased face, “I have really paid you the 
better compliment. These will have had their 
brief hour of use and be thrown aside ; the others 
will live on to please sight — and memory — for 
many days to come.” 

“Then I am indeed honored,” murmured Sir 
Jasper, and he leaned back in his seat and list- 
ened with rapt attention to her gay chatter, her 
description of people, places and things, and 
thought again what a charming companion she 
was, and what a suitable age she had reached 
for matrimony. 

Miss Em took his compliments and tender 
looks less seriously than they deserved. She 
had had a surfeit of such things in her forty 
years, and the hap-hazard element in her nature 
made her more inclined to play bo-peep with des- 
tiny, than to accept its favors with the decorum 
of matured judgment. 

That fastidiousness of which Lady Pat had ac- 
cused her, made her shrink from the touch of the 
chill, blue-veined hand on her arm, seeing in its 
proffered caress only the tepid blood and loose, 
dry skin of age. It was just one of those curi- 
ous prejudices which again and again had com- 
bated tho wider prudence that bade her accept 
instead of criticising. 

“He must be sixty at least,” she thouglii ; “and 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


169 


every year he will gefc more wrinkled, more self- 
ish, more crotche':}- and I should have to put up 
with it all.” 

They went down to supper, prepared and served 
on the same sumptuous scale as the whole enter- 
tainment. Sir Jasper confined his attentions to 
the champagne, which was excellent, and ate 
very sparingly; but Miss Em, whose digestion 
was as perfect as her health, distributed her 
favors equally among oyster patties, lobster salad, 
quails in aspic, chicken chaudfroid, jellies and 
creams, and such-like delicacies. 

Her companion watched her and listened to 
her, and filled her glass with the sparkling liquid 
again and again. 

“It is a long time,” he remarked, “since I 
have enjoyed an evening so much. Your en- 
thusiasms quite carry me away. Women are 
rarely honest enough to show their feelings.” 

“We are so often afraid of being misjudged,” 
said Miss Em. “If we say we like society we 
are put down as frivolous; to appreciate a good 
glass of wine is to be accounted an inebriate; to 
play for more than ordinarj^ stakes at cards 
stamps ‘gambler’ on our reputation and makes 
skill a vice. If we are hypocrites men make us 
so, believe me.” 

“I am sure you are not a hypocrite,” he said, 
with a tender glance into the frank gray eyes. 
“Your face proclaims that.” 

She laughed. “I am like most of my sex,” 
she said. “You know the saying that a woman 
who has nothing to conceal, can have nothing in 


170 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


her life worth revealing. There is a great deal 
of truth in it.” 

Worth revealing!^’ he repeated. “But that 
may apply to her nature, not her secrets.” 

“It may,” agreed Miss Em, “but I hardly 
think it does. After all, wicked people are much 
more interesting than good ones. Life without 
evil in it would be a very tame affair. A level 
mediocrity, without excitement and without bene- 
fit. If every one was uniformly virtuous we 
should have no sinners to convert, or patronize. 
Think of the sudden loss of employment to priests 
and philanthropists.” 

Sir Jasper smiled approvingly. Sentiments of 
this sort delighted him. His own past was not 
decked in very meritorious colors ; and so easy- 
going a philosophy as “doing evil that good 
might come,” or mental satisfaction be af- 
forded to those whose duty it was to preach 
virtue, was just the philosophy he could best 
appreciate. 

“To look on an excellence while erring your- 
self affords the charm of contrast,” he mur- 
mured, sipping his wine with connoisseur-liko 
approval, “and contrast is the salt and savor of 
life' Why are most of us here to night, for in- 
stance? Nine out of ten came from curiosity, 
to see how money would perform what rank and 
birth could not accomplish. Good society wearies 
sometimes of its own perfections, and dives into 
a lower strata for mere relief.” 

“Does that feeling account for the very odd 
choice displayed in its amours asked Miss 




i 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


171 


Em, daringly. “One has read or heard of very 
strong contrasts 

Sir Jasper’s keen eyes looked coldly interroga- 
tive, then drooped, and hid an expression which 
was somewhat uneasy. There was a page in his 
life — 

“I wonder how much she knows?” he thought; 
but aloud he only observed that no doubt society 
had displayed brief aberrations of intellect at 
times. Sentiment was always illogical. Youth, 
whether male or feminine, possessed very much 
the same nature ; impressionable, passionate, im- 
possible to guide, and only to be controlled by 
the bit and spur of Experience. 

It was odd that as he spoke Miss Em’s eyes 
flashed a kindred interrogation to that of which 
she had been the subject a moment before. But 
drooped lids are unrevealing, and the little smile 
hovering over the thin lips might have meant 
anything. 

A zealous partner unearthed Miss Em at 
last, and brought that tete-a-tete to an abrupt 
conclusion. 

Perhaps she was not sorry to end it, though Sir 
Jasper’s regret bordered almost on ill-temper. 
What did she want to dance for? Smely she 
had exerted herself enough. That there could 
be satisfaction in a well- filled programme after 
twenty years of age did not occur to him. 

But Miss Em loved dancing almost as well as 
card-playing, and did it with equal enthusiasm 
and perfection. It amused her to see the jealous 


172 


PEO, THE RAKE. 


glances of younger risrals, and to hear the mean t- 
to-be-aiidible sneers of dowagers and less favored 
contemporaries who had to play the part of wall- 
flowers while she was still “in request/’ 

The hours waned, the rooms thinned, the anx- 
ious hostess was thankfully imbibing refresh- 
ment at her own supper-table, and still the 
“O’Hara woman,” as one or two spiteful friends 
called her, danced on, and still Sir Jasper Lus- 
trell lingered, and Lady Pat wondered if he were 
serious, and whether Miss Em knew best how to 
treat him after all. 

Some men had to be flattered, and some har- 
assed, and some piqued into love. Evidently, 
Sir Jasper belonged to the latter class. 

But at last Miss Era declared she had had 
enough of it, and ruthlessly declined to fulfill 
two or three remaining engagements. Molly 
was summoned, and Sir Jasper’s face lost its 
look of peevish fatigue. With a sublime disre- 
gard of the etiquette of age, he left Lady Pat to 
a more juvenile escort, and gave his arm to Miss 
Em, whom Molly and Paddy Kearney were se- 
cretly blessing in the background. 

“A most delightful evening; I don’t know 
when I have enjoyed myself so much,” mar- 
mured the old baronet in his silkiest tones, bend 
ing courteously over Mrs. Kelly’s ungloved and 
beringed hand. 

“Charming — admirable — most enjoyable . . . . 
trust you are not very fatigued,” echoed the 
vanguard of the party as they followed suit. 

“^You are sure you are not tired?” inquired 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


173 


Sir Jasper tenderly, as he handed his companion 
into the waiting carriage, and stood there bare- 
headed and forgetful of cold and other incon- 
veniences, the chill gray light on hfs face, and 
the wind ruffling his scanty white locks. 

''“Tired! not a bit of it,” cried Miss Em gayly. 
“Shure, Sir Jasper, doesn’t our dear Tom Moore 
(rest his soul!), tell us that the 

Best of all ways to lengthen our days 
Is to steal a few hours from the night ? 

Many’s the time you’ve done that. I’ll be bound; 
and you’re quite equal to doing it still!” 

Sir Jasper sighed. “What delightful spirits 
you have! How much I am in your debt for 
this evening’s enjoyment!” 

“Well, don’t catch cold and be laid up to-mor- 
row,” said Miss Em prudently. “Good-night, 
or rather good-morning. There’s the dawn re- 
buking us, and giving hints of rheumatism and 
bronchitis.” 

^ She closed the window, nodded a last farewell, 
and threw herself back on the cushions with a 
sigh of relief. 

“It is hard work,” she said to Lady Pat; 

— V affaire marclie hien.'*^ 

“It does indeed,” answered her companion 
“He seems quite fascinated. I think it only 
rests with yourself, Emilia.” 

“What about Molly?” asked Miss Em sud- 
denly. “She may have something to say about 
a prospective stepmother. That odious word!” 


174 PEG, THE RAKE. 

and' she shivered and drew her wraps more 
closely about her. 

‘^But she is fond of you, and you are not of 
the dragon type. I think she would hail you as 
a relief after an experience of her Aunt Sabina.’^ 

Miss Em said nothing, only sat silently in her 
comer of the carriage gazing out at the gray 
dawn and the paling lights of the streets. The 
memory of the dance, and the music, and the 
scents of the flowers, were alike an oppressive 
burden. 

How often she had shared in such scenes, and 
left them light of heart as any girl whose echo- 
ing laugh told of sheer enjoyment! Now, there 
was always an afterward — more or less dis- 
tasteful. 

The “afterward” in the present instance was 
the memory of that cold hand which had rested 
for a moment unrebuked upon her arm. She 
could not forget its touch, and even when she 
closed her eyes she was haunted by a vision of 
wrinkled flesh, bloodless and heavily veined— the 
touch of age with its selfish exactions and chill 
reminder of Time’s cruelty. To yield to its 
clasp, to give up her vigorous healthy woman- 
hood, her long- treasured independence of mind 
and action, filled her with unaccountable re- 
pugnance. 

The laws of nature are sometimes stronger 
than the laws of man, and they were strong 
enough still within her breast to threaten revolt 
and set body and mind against a mere commer- 
cial alliance. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


175 


Her unusual quiet and restraint surprised Lady 
Pat, but she attributed them to natural reaction 
after the evening’s excitement, and the wild spir- 
its she had displayed throughout. There was no 
possibility of Miss Em’s ever hiting the juste 
milieu of mental balance. She was always in 
extremes. 

They bade each' other “good- night” without 
further confidences, and Lady Pat put herself 
into Anne’s kindly care, while Miss Em closed 
her door with a sigh of relief. 

The fire was burning dully in the grate. The 
faint daylight shone in through one window 
where the blind had not been drawn. 

Mechanically she lighted the candles, and be- 
gan to unfasten the diamonds from her hair and 
dress. Her lips took a more scornful curve as 
she laid them down on the toilet-table. 

‘ ‘ All the scheming and worry they cost, ’ ’ she 
thought; “and now it is all over, and I’ve 
gained — what? An old roue'' s approval, fanned 
a dying spark from fast cooling ashes ! I who 
once craved love deep as the sea, and for that 
and that only would have given myself!” 

A storm of contempt swept over her face. She 
seized the jewels and tossed them into the case 
and closed the lid with a fierce gesture. Some 
difficulty as the catch escaped the lock reminded 
her that she had been obliged to force it, and it 
was now useless. 

She opened it again and began to arrange the 
different ornaments more carefully, instead of 
leaving them heaped here and there upon the 


176 


PEG, THE RAKE 


velvet tray. Still the lid would not close, and 
half impatient of the delay caused by its obstinacy 
she lifted out the tray in order to see if any ob- 
struction came from below. A thick layer of 
cotton-wool covered the contents of the lower 
compartment. She lifted it up and saw to her 
surprise a variety of other ornaments . An old- 
fashioned hunting- watch, one or two massive 
gold bracelets, a pair of long “dropper” ear- 
rings, hideous enough in fashion and design to 
adorn some savage queen, a hair chain, a gigan- 
tic cameo-brooch, and two or three other articles 
equally antique and ugly revealed themselves, 
and for a moment she stared at them in utter 
bewilderment. 

“Gracious r they must all belong to Mrs. 
O’Hara,” she exclaimed aloud. “And if she 
misses them, won’t there be a hue and cry! 
Not but what it serves her right for putting 
them into my case.” 

She went carefully through them again, then 
took the diamonds out of their tray, and placed 
them together in a heap. 

“She must have her rubbish back, of course; 
but I’m — well, anything an O’Hara likes to pro- 
nounce me — if I ever part with the diamonds 
now I’ve got them. However, the cat’s out of 
the bag with a vengeance now!” 

And with one of her rapid changes of mood 
she sat down and gave vent to a perfect peal of 
laughter that sounded almost startling in the 
silence that filled the hotel. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


177 


CHAPTER XV. 

“the PHILISTINES ARE UfON THEE.” 

It was almost noon, and Lady Pat and Miss 
Em were lingering over their midday breakfast 
of cutlets, pommes de terre frittes, St. Julien 
and coffee, a Continental fashion of dejeuner 
dear to both their hearts. 

Without — the sun was shining, the street full 
of life, gayety and bustle, and a prospective 
morning of shopping, suggested by Lady Pat, 
still further conduced to raise Miss Em’s spirits 
and put her into that comfortable state of feel- 
ing described as being “in charity with all 
mankind.” 

“You don’t seem interested in your corre- 
spondence, Emilia,” at last observed the elder 
lady with a glance at the unopened letters lying 
beside her goddaughter’s plate. 

“Xo,” answered Miss Em tranquilly; “I pre- 
fer a hot cutlet to news or bills. There’s noth- 
ing so interesting as the former — here,” and her 
white fingers moved the various envelopes aside, 
then suddenly singled out one, and for a moment 
lifted it to interested scrutiny. 

“It looks like Aunt Bedelia’s writing!” she 


178 


PEG, THE BAKE 


exclaimed. “But how could she know I was 
here?” 

“Why do people always speculate as to the 
identity or motiv^es of a correspondent, when the 
mere opening of an envelope would at once an- 
swer both?” murmured Lady Pat lazily. 

Miss Em laughed. “Sounds like a conun- 
drum,” she said; “I suppose it is foolish. Well, 
here goes to convince myself,” and she tore open 
the flimsy covering, and ran her eyes rapidly 
over the close, fine writing it revealed. 

“It'^5 from Aunt Bedelia. She only says she 
‘has heard’ 1 am staying here. She wants me 
to dine with her to-night. Have we any en- 
gagement?” 

“I think not,” answered Lady Pat reflective- 
ly. “I was going to propose the theater, but 
you know our arrangement, my dear — you are 
always to do exactly as you please when you 
stay with me. Your aunt, of course, has a 
claim upon you; you had better go there to- 
night. I suppose it is one of her card parties?” 

“She only says: ‘Two or three old friends,’” 
Miss Em answered, looking down at the letter. 
What it did say was really: “If you know any 
man who plays a good hand at whisk or loo pray 
bring him; but no woman, ‘an you love me.’ I 
am looking forward to one of our old delightful 
evenings!” 

“The wicked old rake!” thought Miss Em. 
“She’s not a bit changed — and seventy-five if 
she’s a day.” 

She folded up the missive and put it in her 


PEG,- THE RAKE. 


179 


pocket, while she finished her breakfast with a 
leisurely appreciation of its excellence, to which 
recent memories of Mrs. O’Hara’s menage af- 
forded additional zest. 

Lady Pat said nothing about Sir Jasper, 
though they discussed the ball freely, and won- 
dered why the lord lieutenant had not put in an 
appearance, and what could have induced Mrs. 
Druce-Hay, usually known as “Satan” and 
about as broad as she wa,s long, to appear in 
white satin, and decolletee a faire peure, and 
why Lady Jolijambe had painted so glaringly, 
and the faded Miss Nolan chosen to whiten her 
face with a powder that gave it a ghastly resem- 
blance to a clown’s. ' Then, having satirized and 
dissected friends and enemies with charming 
impartiality, they retired to their own rooms to 
prepare for their drive. 

“After all, money makes life very pleasant,” 
reflected Miss Em, as she donned her neat tweed 
costume, and made notes of the various articles 
necessary to replenish her wardrobe, and which 
Lady Pat’s credit would furnish forth. “One 
can’t get along without it. Washed muslins 
and turned skirts may pass muster for ‘sweet 
seventeen,’ but there’s no doubt a ivoinan must 
dress well, if she wants to hold her own.” 

She drew on her gloves thoughtfully, her mind 
busy with projects and reflections chiefly con- 
nected with the evening. 

“If by some happy chance I could meet Raikes 
I’d ask him to go with me, and Paddy too for 
that matter. It’s a mercy she hasn’t invited 


180 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Lady Pat; I think we should be a little too 
much even for her nerves.” 

Then she laughed softly and took up her list 
'and for the next two hours gave herself up to the 
delights of selecting and ordering gowns and 
bonnets and other articles of feminine adorn- 
ment. 

“ You’ll want a lot of clothes if we go away,” 
said Lady Pat, as they stopped before the hum- 
ble. residence of the “useful dressmaker” to 
leave a message requiring her attendance the 
next morning. 

“Is there an if about it?” asked Miss Em, her 
eyes flashing a rapid challenge which Lady Pat 
understood perfectly. 

“ ‘The best laid plans of mice and men,’ ” she 
quoted laughingly. “You know I am never sure 
of doing anything .until it is actually done.” 

“She wants to be sure of Sir Jasper’s inten- 
tions,” thought Miss Em. “I could almost find 
it in meiio hope she may be disappointed, but I 
suppose that’s rather foolish ; it may be my last 
chance.” 

The sight of a hat lifted in salutation arrested 
her attention. 

She bent forward eagerly. “It is Major 
Raikes; do stop the carriage, please; the very 
person I want to speak to!” 

“And I’m going into this shop, so I’ll not in* 
terrupt you,” as the carriage drew up at a fash- 
ionable emporium in Sackville Street. She dis- 
mounted, and, after a few words to the major 
passed in, leaving him and Miss Em together. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


181 


“My dear major,” she exclaimed impetuously, 
“will you come to ^ card party with me to- 
night? I’ve carte blanche to bring any one I 
like, so long as he can play, and doesn’t object 
to moderately high stakes ” 

“I think I can answer for myself in both those 
particulars,” said the major; “and of course I’m 
at your service, Miss O’Hara, and honored to be 
so. May I ask, do I know the — ” 

“Oh ! it’s at my aunt’s, Miss Bedelia O’Hara’s. 
Surely you’ve met her somewhere. She’s lived 
in Dublin the best part of her life. No? haven’t 
you? (as he shook his head) well then, it’s time 
you should ; she’s quite the historical character 
of the family. If I possessed any literary talent 
I’d write her life. She has two weaknesses, 
cookery and cards. Shall you be seeing Paddy 
to-day? If so, do ask him to come also.” 

The major promised. “What time?” he asked. 
“You’ve only said evening.” 

“Oh, nine o’clock or thereabouts,” said Miss 
Em. “Here’s the address.” 

She tore off a slip of paper, the heading of the 
letter she had received, and thrust it into his 
hand just as Lady Pat appeared in the doorway. 
The major raised his hat to both ladies, and 
walked off. 

“I do hope she is not flirting with him,” 
thought Lady Pat, anxiously, as she glanced at 
Miss Em’s radiant fape. “She never looks as 
pleased as that, unless she’s plotting some mis- 
chief 


182 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Well, aunt, hero 1 am!” 

Thus Miss Em announced herself at seven 
o’clock that evening, popping her head uncere- 
moniously into the “parlor,” as Miss O'Hara 
called the apartment which modern villa-ism 
now thinks fit to term “drawing-room.” 

But Miss Bedelia O’Hara had a great many 
old-fashioned prejudices, and this was one. 

She was an erect, spare old lady, of any age be- 
tween sixty and seventy — no one knew exactl}^ to 
a few years. She wore her own hair looped over 
either side of sharply defined features and keen 
dark eyes, in a style she termed bandeaux^ but 
which Miss Em described as “window curtains.” 

Her erect carriage and pale clear skin and the 
aforesaid sliarp features gave her an air of dis- 
tinction. She always dressed in black, and was 
addicted to massive gold ornaments, in the shape 
of chain, brooch and earrings. Her love of gossip 
and keen acquaintance with her neighbors’ af- 
fairs made her rather formidable to those offend- 
ers in whose interests she acted as detective, or 
whose private life shunned that “fierce light 
which beats” not only upon the “throne,” but 
the ordinary leather - coshered armchair of the 
evil-doer. Yet she was ease-loving and kindl}- 
at heart, despite her sharpness of tongue and 
keenness of vision. She was no friend to calm 
surroundings; her life had never been tranquil, 
and age for her was no smoothly gliding stream, 
but a restless current, apt to twist and turn and 
make eccentric dashes into various inlets which 
might as well have been avoided. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


183 


It was to this lady that Miss Em announced 
herself so unceremoniously, yet with the confi- 
dence of one who knows herself welcome, 

“I’ve come early on purpose,” she added after 
the old lady had embraced her with effusive affec- 
tion. “I knew you would have plenty to tell 
me.” 

For the next five minutes question and answer 
went on with the briskness of fusillade, as if to 
emphasize the truth of this statement. Lady 
Pat, the Kellys’ ball, the health of the folk of 
Carrig-duve, the probable duration of Miss Em’s 
stay in Dublin, a bankruptcy and divorce case, 
a new recipe for fish sauce which Miss Bedelia 
had invented for that evening, and a lament over 
a run of ill-luck at nap — all -these subjects were 
jumbled together, and seemed to possess the 
deepest interest for both aunt and niece. 

“I hope Lady Patricia won’t think me dis- 
courteous for not inviting her,” remarked the 
old lady at last. “But I wanted you all to my- 
self until dinner was over. By-the-way, my 
dear, have you asked anyone in to take a hand?” 

“Yes; two men — Paddy Kearney, you know, 
and a friend of his — a Major Raikes. He is 
delightful company and doesn’t object to high 
stakes.” 

Aunt Bedelia’s dark eyes glistened approving- 
ly. These were guests after her own heart. 

Miss Em h^d been perfectly right when she 
spoke of the “vice of gambling” as an inheri- 
tance of the O’Hara blood. Bedelia O’Hara 
was a gambler, heart and soul. She could bear 


184 


-PEG, THE KAKE. 


loss or gain with equal equanimity, and, having 
fortunately a small income secured against risks, 
had managed to keep her head above water even 
under long runs of bad luck and the obligation 
of recklessly incurred debts. 

She was warmly attached to her niece, in 
whom she had always recognized the true O’Hara 
characteristics, and whose rebellion against the 
yoke of matrimony resembled her own, and in- 
deed displayed every prospect of leaving her 
stranded also on the shores of celibacy". 

The announcemeut of dinner cut short the dis- 
cussion of personal matters for a time, and the 
two ladies betook themselves to the dining-room, 
a small, cozy apartment, .whose limited accom- 
modation was seldom taxed to the extent of more 
than six or eight guests. But Miss Bedelia had 
a weakness for cookery and a talent for inven- 
tion, which rendered this limited number a boon, 
just as isolated cases of sickness are preferable to 
epidemics. 

Along with the ardor of inventive genius. Fate 
had dowered this amateur Francatelli with the 
perpetual odium of failure. She would lie awake 
for hours studying out some marvelous combina- 
tion of seasoning, or flavoring, or icing; she 
would see in her “mind’s eye,” as she described 
it, the perfection of a dish, the charm of an en- 
tree; and yet, wedded to the prosaic details of 
ingrediOnts, and the hazards of oven or frying- 
pan, the said dish or entree would degenerate 
into a nauseous compound, over-flavored or un- 
der cooked, or else show a malevolent determina- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


]S5 

tion to turn into something totally different from 
its inventor’s original design. 

But all artists have suffered from similar 
freaks. The design of the creator and the 
.obduracy of the thing created have from time 
immemorial sounded a harsh note of discourage- 
ment to inventive ears. Miss Bedelia was not to 
be discouraged by such paltry rebuffs. She re- 
turned again and again to the charge with a zeal 
that was almost admirable, and a tenacity of pur- 
pose that was worthy of a Napoleon. “ Not to 
know yourself defeated” is an excellent principle, 
and acts almost as well as an assurance of vic- 
tory. 

Miss Em, secure in the possession of an ad- 
mirable digestion, awaited the advent of the new 
sauce with perfect equanimity. 

Its look left nothing to be desired, though a 
strong flavor of sherry suggested antagonism to 
the accompanying turbot. " 

Miss Bedelia’s invention had not thought 
proper to “leave well alone,” but boldly dashed 
at marsala for flavoring Sauce Hollandctise, 
arguing that sherry was the due accompaniment 
to fish. 

“ What do you think of it. Peg, my dear?” she 
asked her niece, anxiously. 

Miss Ejii tried to be diplomatic, and observed 
that the color was beautiful, but the flavor was 
surely a little— well — just a very little — vinous. 
Otherwise, it was a delightful sauce, putting 
ihrimps and anchovy arid orthodox “melted 
butter” quite into the shade. 


186 


PEG^THE RAKE. 


All the same she secured her plate from ob- 
servation, and gave a significant glance to the 
elderly parlor-maid, well understood of that per- 
sonage, who had known her from girlhood, and 
ranked her next to her mistress in her affections. 

That glance had the freemasonry of an under- 
stood signal, and the plate was dexterously re- 
moved without hurting the feelings of the hostess 
by any hint of rejected contents. 

She was already astride of her hobby, having 
had a new inspiration which she described poeti- 
cally as “a dream of potatoes boiled in milk, 
shredded and iced, and served as a sweet.” 

Miss Em agreed that it sounded delicious, 
though a little unseasonable for winter parties. 
She breathed freely as the next course displayed 
the simplicity of a homely fowl, boiled and served 
with parsley and bacon ; the sweets too were sim- 
ple and safe, as Miss Bedelia had intrusted them 
to the cook, being too absorbed by her own par- 
ticular invention of the hour to attempt anything 
else. 

Coffee and liqueur were brought in with the 
dessert, while the elderly parlor-maid prepared 
the “parlor” for expected guests by bringing out 
a green . baize-covered table, and arranging vari- 
ous packs of cards on it. 

Aunt Bedelia sipped her chartreuse with the 
approbation of a connoisseur, and waxed com- 
municative over a recent “scandal in high life” 
which had shocked society in Dublin to the core. 

‘ ‘ To lose such a position ! ’ ’ —she lamented, ‘ ‘ and 
after having put up with her husband for so long. 


PEG, THE HAKE. 


187 


I really don’t knovsr why she should have left 
him. There’s so* little difference in men when 
it comes to living with them that I never can 
understand a woman running av/ay from one to 
take up with another.” 

Miss Em’s eyes looked faintly quizzical ; per- 
haps she wondered how a maiden lady of Aunt 
Bedelia’s years could pronounce so authorita- 
tively on the nature of the stronger sex, 

‘‘There seems a great deal of difference in 
them,” she^ observed. 

“Yes, while they are lovers,” said Aunt Be- 
delia, sharply. “Gracious powers! the foolish 
things women do for men ! I lose all patience 
when I think of if. What a multitude of faults 
she can excuse in him, if he only pleads he 
‘loves her’!” 

“Love is the best thing in life according to the 
best authorities,” said Miss Em, who delighted 
in drawing out sentiments of this description 
from the old lady. 

“According to fools!” snapped Aunt Bedelia. 
“Love! faugh! a schoolboy’s fancy for the first 
pretty face, a girl’s dream of the impossible, and 
a woman’s realization of it!” 

“But there must be a good deal in it, or we 
should not see so many wrecked and unhappy 
lives.” 

“There is no more in love itself, as a passion 
or sentiment, than there is in the individual who 
professes it. Human nature is weak, and the 
wear and tear of life leave no room for poetry.” 

“x\nd yet,” argued Miss Em, “no wonrin likes 


188 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


to marry without soihe sort of sentiment in the 
matter. ” . . 

“Don’t they?” answered her aunt. “1 fancy 
society could tell you a different story. If I had 
my youth over again—” 

She stopped abruptly. Perhaps memory can 
give a stab of remembered pain even when hearts 
are old, and brows wrinkled; and the O’Haras, 
men and women alike, had been credited with the 
ability “to love madly, and hate badly”; but the 
bond of remembrance soon released its hold, and 
the keen well- tutored face took back its natural 
expression. 

“Perhaps it’s as well I can’t,” she went on. 
“I might make a fool of myself ; there’s no know- 
ing, and we won’t take other folk’s counsel. 
However, a pinch of experience is worth a pound 
of advice. You’ve had both, Peg.” 

“I have,” said Miss Em, with a sudden tight- 
ening of her lips; “I can’t say, though, that I’ve 
made very good use of them.” 

“ I always feel that you’ll make a good sensible 
marriage yet,” remarked Aunt Bedelia, as she 
placidly crossed her withered hands, on which a 
few valuable rings were sparkling; “you owe it 
to your family, and yourself.” 

“You might have set me the example, ” said 
Miss Em; “you had every opportunity.” 

“Perhaps I had. But I was hard to please 
when pleasure was possible; and Time has a 
knack of drifting us on before we are well aware 
of it. I might have done a great deal with my 
life, but 1 have only been one of the paviors of 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


189 


hell,"’ she added, bitterly. “Be warned by me. 
Peg. There’s no living* creature I care for but 
yourself, and all I have will be yours, as I’ve 
often told you; still, I fancy you’d be happier 
for having a house of your own, and an assured 
position.” 

Miss Em shook her head rebelliously. “1 like 
freedom, and all the married women IVe ever 
known are little better than slaves. Willing 
ones, rebellious ones; but slaves in some sort, 
with chains either proudly displayed, or jeal- 
ously hidden — but wasn’t that the bell, aunt?” 

“Yes,” said the’ old lady, rising and pushing 
aside the liqueur stand; “I wonder who are the 
iirst arrivals — your friends or mine?” 

Aunt Bedelia made a charming hostess to men. 
Her own sex were less approving. Her sharp 
tongue, quick vision, and insight into their “lit- 
tle ways,” being characteristics that met with 
various uncomplimentary opinions. 

It was strange that both aunt and niece should 
be so popular with a sex to whom both had de- 
nied the privilege of annexation. Miss Em had 
studied her aunt with curious interest, seeing in 
her mode of life a possible reflection of her own 
future. They had always been strangely at 
tached to one another, lenient to errors, and 
admiring of better qualities, upheld by that curi- 
ous family chivalry which is essentially Irish, 
and will allow no third person to find fault with 
faults however apparent. 

. The card party consisted of six, and midnight 


190 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


found them deeply absorbed in nap. The stakes 
had been moderate hitherto, and the luck pretty 
evenly di vided. A handsome, and rather ‘ ‘ fast’ ’ 
little widow, Mrs. O’Connell, and an elderly ad- 
mirer of hers, were the two guests Aunt Bedel i a 
had invited. Major Raikes had brought Paddy 
Kearney. 

As the clock struck twelve, they left off play- 
ing for a short time, and discussed luck and 
losses, while partaking of the sandwiches, wine 
and whisky punch, and various other refresh- 
ments which had been brought in. 

Miss Em made some remark as to departure, 
but Mrs. O’Connell overruled the suggestion, and 
she was easily persuaded to stay on. As for 
Aunt Bedelia, she was ready to sit up all the 
night when cards were in question, and Fortune 
had favored her to-night in a special manner. 

* The chill sound of rain was audible in the 
street without, and rendered the cozy parlor 
doubly attractive. The mellow odors of punch 
and the permission for cigars were further in- 
ducement to remain ; and Mrs. O’Connell’s tongue 
became more recklessly amusing, and Miss Em 
and Aunt Bedelia more than usually entertain- 
ing, under the influence of the somewhat potent 
beverage which had been served to them by 
Paddy and the major. 

Play was resumed, and a suggestion of higher 
stakes met with no opposition. Time passed 
swiftly, but no memory of prudence touched 
the flying hours -with anything so powerful as 
restraint. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


191 


Miss Em, glancing at the paper beside her, 
was surprised to find her losses touching on three 
figures; but the fact seemed only to fire the 
chances of the game with fresh excitement. She 
threw herself heart and soul into it, playing as 
no one there played, losing as no one there lost. 

The first faint streaks of daylight were peering 
through the closed blinds before any thought of 
leaving that fatal green board seemed to occur 
to hostess or guests. 

When they at last separated and Miss Em, for 
decency’s sake, felt compelled to accept her aunt’s 
offer of a bed, instead of returning to the hotel, 
she had lost over a hundred pounds. 

“Anne,” said Lady Pat next morning, weary 
/of waiting breakfast, “do go to Miss O’Hara’s 
room and tell her bow late it is. I’m quite tired 
of waiting.” 

In two or three minutes Anne, the stately, re- 
turned, her face white and anxious. 

“If you please, my lady, Miss O’Hara isn’t in 
her room, and she can’t have come home all 
night, for the bed hasn’t been slept in.” 

Lady Pat looked first startled, then scandal- 
ized. “ITot come home all night! What wi^. 
the hotel people think?” 

“Perhaps she has stayed at her aunt’s, my 
lady?” 

“Ah!” Lady Pat gave a sigh of relief. “Not 
unlikely, Anne. Oblige me by going round to 
inquire if that is the^case. You know the ad- 
dress; you had better take a fly — ” 


192 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


She stopped abruptly. Hurried steps, Toices, 
a gay laugh, and the culprit was in the room. 

“Dear Lady Pat, a thousand apologies! Do 
forgive me. Aunt Bedelia kept things up so 
late, and it was such a wretched night, so I 
slept there; I thought I’d just catch ^mu at 
breakfast. Morning, Anne! You look quite 
scared; did you think I had made away with 
myself? Lady Pat, a cup of coffee or I’ll die. 
Any letters?” 

“One — from Carrig-duve,’^ and Lady Pat 
handed it to her, while Anne retired and closed 
the door, her face having regained its usual 
dignified composure. 

“Madam O’Hara, as I live ! Gracious powers, 
what has happened that she should write to me?” 

. She tore open the envelope, and flashed her 
eyes rapidly over the contents. A r^d flush rose 
to her brow, and for a moment anger and defi- 
ance fought swiftly for expression, then she sud- 
denly crushed up the letter and put it in her 
pocket. Lady Pat handed her the coffee-cup, 
with an inquiring glance. 

“Well?” she asked. 

Miss Em’s answer was enigmatical. 

“The Philistines be upon thee, Samson,” she 
said. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


193 


CHAPTER XYI. 

TROUBLED WATERS. 

Lightly as Miss Em treated the subject, she 
was secretly furious at Mrs. O’Hara’s letter, 
which was couched in most insulting terms, 
and demanded instant restoration of her stolen 
property. 

The fact of that “old trumpery,” as her step- 
daughter termed it, being among the diamonds, 
threatened unpleasant complications. 

But Miss Em had a scheme in her own mind 
which she had intended to put into execution 
this very morning ; and after a brief parley with 
herself, in which prudence played a small, but 
wholly inefficient part, she determined to carry 
it out. 

The first thing was to get rid of Xady Pat and 
gain for herself a free hour. Fortunately, this 
proved easier than at first appeared possible ; for 
Lady Pat reminded her that the “useful dress- 
maker” was to put in an appearance, in order 
to supervise, fit, and modernize such dresses . as 
were worth these alterations. Suggesting that 


194 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Miss Em had better give up the morning to this 
important matter, and take Anne into the confer- 
ence, Lady Pat excused herself from being pres- 
ent on the plea of an engagement. Thus favored 
by circumstances, Miss Era saw the way clear to 
her own project. 

- ITo sooner had Lady Pat departed in the car- 
riage than she summoned Anne, and gave her 
full directions as to the different skirts and bod- 
ices which offered any possibility of improve- 
ment; thus judiciously flattering the maid by 
relying on her assistance, and permitting her 
suggestions. 

“I quite trust to you,” she said in conclusion, 
as she hastily put herself into walking garb, 
supplemented by a more than usually thick veil. 
Anne noticed this, and also that she carried two 
parcels in her hand ; but Miss Em’s eccentricities 
and vagaries were no novelty to her, and even 
had they been so, she would not have felt it her 
place to make any remark thereon. 

The rain had passed off, but the sky was gray 
and lowering. It was one of those days that de- 
pression seems to have marked for its own, and 
Nature heaves death sighs throughout hours of 
gloom. Miss Em stood in the hotel porch and 
surveyed the muddy streets ani threatening 
clouds with some apprehension. 

“I ought to have brought an umbrella,” she 
thought, but her hands were encumbered, and 
her skirts would require attention; she resolved 
to run the risk of showers, and was just stepping 
boldly forward when she hear 1 her name pro- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


195 


nounced, and glancing back saw Sir Jasper 
Lustrell hastening after her. 

“Are you going out?” he asked eagerly and 
unnecessarily. “May I have the pleasure of 
walking with you?” 

“Good heavens! what a nuisance!” thought 
Miss Em. “However shall I get rid of him?” 

But she only smiled sweetly on the old vale- 
tudinarian, and said that she would be de- 
lighted. “But I’m only going to the post- 
office,” she added. 

Sir Jasper, it appeared, was bound in the 
same direction; so they proceeded down the 
street together, unconscious of the lynx eyes of 
Miss Sabina watching this proceeding from an 
upper window. 

Miss * Em dashed into conversation with her 
usual aplomb; but her mind was ill at ease, and 
Sir Jasper’s courtly compliments were more an- 
noying than pleasing. When they reached the*^ 
post-office she expected he would take his leave, 
but he only offered to wait for her. 

There was nothing for it but to lie boldly. 
Miss Em stated that an appointment with a 
dressmaker would prevent her taking advantage 
of his escort. 

The old baronet looked disconcerted; it was 
rarely that he offered such attentions, and 
probably he was surprised they were not 
more ardently welcomed. However, he had 
no further excuse for lingering and so took 
himself off. 

Miss Em registered one of her parcels, and left 


196 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


it to be forwarded to its destination; the other 
she retained. On leaving the post-office she 
walked down the street very rapidly, glancing 
with some apprehension at the different figures 
she passed. She stopped at last before a plate- 
glass window, whose tempting array of jewelry, 
old china, and old silver, was well deserving of 
attention. But Miss Em’s eyes, to any one ob ^ 
serving her, were only roving to right and left, 
and not until the street was comparatively de- 
serted, did she seem to make up her mind to 
enter the emporium It was a full quarter of an 
hour before she emerged, flushed and radiant, 
but minus her parcel. 

Calling the first vacant fly she sprang into it 
and was driven rapidly away to the Grresham. 
Lady Pat had not yet returned ; so she speedily 
divested herself of hat and mantle, and then sat 
down to write a letter which she had been com- 
-posing at intervals all the morning. 

The task appeared to afford her unmitigated 
satisfaction. 

“I’d like to see Madam Skinflint’s face 
when she reads thatV^ she said, as she closed 
the envelope; “there’s not much, but there’s 
enough.” 

Certainly there was not much. The letter said 
briefly, and without even the customary form of 
address : 

“I have sent back your own valuable prop- 
erty, which I discovered accidentally among my 
diamonds: your claim to the latter has yet to bo 
proved. In the interim of the proceedings you 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


197 


threaten I have placed them in the safe custody 
of Messrs. Needham, Watts & Co., who have 
kindly advanced me ^200 on them. 

“Emilia O’Hara.” 

Miss Em was in radiant spirits at luncheon; 
so much so that Lady Pat suspected mischief. 
She gave an account of Aunt Bedelia’s dinner 
and card party that amused the elder lady im- 
mensely; but, needless to say, she observed a 
discreet silence on the subject of her own losses, 
and the proceedings of the morning. But the 
satisfaction arising from a successfully carried 
out scheme was apparent, and the relief of know- 
ing her debt to Mrs. O'Connell and Major Raikes 
could be paid off at once, sent her mercurial tem- 
perament up to its highest limits. 

Besides, there were engagements for afternoon 
and evening that promised an agreeable distrac- 
tion. Miss Em, however, vainly endeavored to 
gain any positive information respecting Lady 
Pat’s intentions as to going abroad. It was 
plain that the scheme of marrying her to Sir 
Jasper was paramount in the mind of her god- 
mother; and though Miss Em affected toJaugh 
at it impossible, she was quite conscious that 
it mainly rested with herself to prove the re- 
verse. 

As yet, however, she had not made up her 
mind on the subject; nor could she bring herself 
to view it without distaste. But the necessity of 
“keeping in” with Lady Pat made her diplo- 
matic, and she had no desire that the affair of 


198 


PEG^ THE RAKE 


the diamonds or her recent losses at cards should 
reach that lady’s ears. 

The strongest spirits have their moments of 
timidity, and Miss Em never felt so genuinely 
weak as after she had done something unusually 
audacious. If her father and stepmother chose 
to make a fuss over this laSt exploit it would be 
extremely unpleasant for her, to say the least of 
it, and viev^ed in that light Sir Jasper seemed 
an admirable sop to throw to Cerberus. They 
would not be severe on an escapade which re- 
flected on the first lady of the county. 

It was not till night, however, that her spirits 
quieted down, when the allurement of a tete-a- 
tete had brought forth all the worldly wisdom 
and skillful counsel of that astute mondaine, 
Lady Pat. 

They had met Sir Jasper at dinner, and again 
his attentions had been so marked as to attract 
notice and add another shade of sourness to Miss 
Sabina Lustrell’s expression. She had been as 
nearly rude as possible to Miss Em, thereby add- 
ing only an incentive to her acceptance of the 
old baronet’s compliments and flatteries. 

\‘If I ever marry him it will be as much to 
spite that hateful old maid as anything else!” 
she said to Lady Pat as they sat by the fire and 
sipped Anne’s carefully prepared cordial before 
retiring for the night. 

“Marry him for any reason you please, so only 
you do marry him,” thought Lady Pat; but 
. aloud she only remarked that it was a pity good 
women were so uninteresti ng. ‘ ‘ I daresay, ’ ’"she 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


190 


murmured dreamily, ‘‘that the excellent Sabina 
has never done anything wrong or regrettable in 
her life; and yet I’ve never heard she had one 
real friend, nor would her death wring a genuine 
tear from any eye.” 

“ You think, then, that to be interesting it is 
necessary to be wicked?” remarked Miss Em. 

“Oh no, 1 don’t go as far as that. I mean 
that a little experience, a little knowledge of 
temptation, is worth more to a woman than a 
thousand theories. What is unknown cannot be 
understood; and so many women preach virtue 
from an exalted pinnacle of pure ignorance of 
vice, that their opinions are practically worth- 
less.” 

“That is true enough,” said Miss Em. “The 
fact of being ‘untempted’ seems to afford a moral 
standpoint from which to view the weak and the 
fallen. Do you remember what they were say- 
ing to-night of Lady Gaylord?” 

“ Yes. One hears of nothing else but that 
case. The curious part about it is that the man 
she has gone off with is every whit as bad a 
character as Lord Gaylord himself.” 

“Still, he has been devoted to her for years; 
and a villain all one’s own is at least preferable 
to a villain who is unfaithful.” 

j “I suppose it is possible to hate the sin and 
love the sinner,” observed Lady Pat, between 
thoughtful sips of her cordial. “Women are 
anomalies, my dear. There’s no doubt of that. 
Our hearts outweigh our brains, and even the 
most reasonable of us seem to lose our heads at 


200 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


times. Oh, the blessing of a quiet slumbrous 
nature, that cannot rage and fume and dash it- 
self against the rocks of circumstance!” 

“Its losses may outweigh its gain.” 

“Not if the owner is unconscious of the fact. 
I have come across two or three such people in 
the course of my life, and they seemed as nearly 
happy as any mortals could be on this uncertain 
plane.” 

“Happy!” echoed Miss Em drearily: “that 
misapplied and misunderstood word ! How vague 
its meaning is to most-of us!” 

“I think,” said Lady Pat, as she raised an 
embroidered flounce from an arched instep, so as 
to give her feet the benefit of the fire, “that the 
best definition I ever heard of happiness was that 
it is ‘a sense of possibilities waiting for ful- 
fillment.’” 

“That’s only a new cloak for an old truth, 
‘Man never is, but always to be blessed,’ ” Miss 
Em answered. “Of course, it is eminently right, 
not to say religious, to be' satisfied with one’s po- 
sition in life, and pretend to believe it is the very 
best position for us, but who is so — honestly?” 

“No one, I’m afraid,” laughed Lady Pat, 
“unless it’s a bishop; they have always seemed 
to me most enviable persons. I should like to 
have married one if only to' prove my theory. 
But don’t you think,"” suggested Lady Pat soft- 
ly, “that having seen so much, and felt so much, 
you might quiet down into a sort of content? 
There are few troubles that money cannot soothe, 
and an assured position benefit. Promise me to 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


201 


think seriously of this. T have a special reason 
for asking it. 

Miss Em looked up quickly. Her heart gave 
a guilty throb of apprehension. “You have 
heard — something?” she said faintly. 

“Yes,” said Lady Pat, with gravity; “I don’t 
know why 1 shouldn’t tell you. Of course, I 
knew always that you had certain expectations 
from your aunt. Miss O’Hara, and that her 
money would leave you independent of anything 
your father might be influenced to do. Well, to- 
day I happened to meet her solicitor, who is also 
mine, and in. course of conversation he let out 
that she has suffered so severely by speculations 
of one sort or another that in a sudden fit of ter- 
ror she has sunk a large portion of her income in 
an annuity. This means that at her death you 
will have really next to nothing. He seemed to 
think she had told you, but I felt sure you were 
ignorant of the matter.” 

Miss Em had grown very pale. “Yes,” she 
said; “I knew nothing of it.” 

They were both silent for a time, lost in a train 
of thought that led to a vast area of possibilities. 
To Miss Em it seemed that a net of doom was 
closing round her slowly and surely, that what 
had looked merely a jest at first was turning into 
very serious earnest. To Jive as she had been 
doing for the last ten years was becoming dis- 
tasteful; the constant strain it entailed on mind, 
energy, and invention was more of a tax than an 
amusement. There 'were times when peace and 
rest seemed the most desirable of earthly bless- 


202 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


ings, yet they were blessings only possible to an 
assured and certain amount of wealth. 

Poverty had always been to her a thing hate- 
ful and to be avoided; she considered that most 
of the ills and troubles of life sprang from want 
of means. Riches gave independence to mei^ 
and women alike, and were surely worth some 
sacrifice. She roused herself at last with a sort 
of desperate energj^. 

“Aunt Bedelia was my last chance,” she said. 
“You know I have nothing to expect from my 
father. He is completely under the thumb of 
Madam Skinflint.” 

“And an old man now, my dear,” said Lady 
Pat, softly. 

“Yes; that makes it worse.” 

She sat very still, looking at the fire as it glowed 
between the iron bars of the grate. 

“I think,” she said at last, “I shall do it.” 

' “Do what?” asked Lady Pat, a little too 
eagerly. 

“Marry Sir Jasper Lustrell, if he asks me. 
All the same, he may never do that,^’ 

Lady Pat dropped her skirt over the embroid- 
ered stockings and slender feet she had been 
toasting so carefully; a complacent smile hov- 
ered round her lips. “I wish,” she said, as she 
rose and pushed bg-ck her chair, “that I was only 
half as sure of meeting my bishop.” 

Miss Em laughed somewhat mirthlessly. She 
was suddenly conscious of fatigue and general 
weariness. 

“It is always the unexpected that happens,” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


303 


she said; “who knows but what his Grace of 
Lawn and Gaiters may appear on your horizon 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“l WILL SAY ‘yes.’ ” 

A WEEK had gone by. Time had not wrought 
any startling change in the relative positions of 
Miss Em and Sir Jasper, but it had brought news 
from Garrig-duve in the shape of a letter from 
Quinlan, describing what she termed “ructions” 
after the discovery of the diamond abstraction. 
It appeared that the receipt of her own jewelry 
and Miss Em’s letter had thrown Mrs. O’Hara 
into such a “fayver of rage” that she had been 
quite ill, and obliged to keep her bed, “for which,” 
added the writer, “the saints be praised, for I 
was just fairly moithered wid her goings on, and' 
she swearin’ to have the law o’ you. Miss Peg,' 
darlint, if it was to cost her last sixpence in this 
world— and she meant it, and no lie at all, at 
all.” 

“I wonder if she means it still,” thought Miss 
Em, somewhat uneasilj', after reading the letter 
a second time. It was one of her “dark days” 
— days when melancholy and disgust lay heavy 
on her soul and stamped ever}" prospect with 
their ima.ge. 


204 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Feeling utterly unfit for any company but her 
own, she at last put on her hat and went out, 
resolving to try a brisk walk to the Phoenix Park 
as a cure for the threatened attack of “blues.” 

The sky was, for once, blue and clear, the air 
had the freshness and crispness of winter with- 
out its cold. Her dress of black cloth, with a 
touch of scarlet at the throat and a wing of the 
same color in her astrachan hat, was eminently 
becoming, and, though she had felt too dispirited 
to dress for effect, she had rarely looked more 
effective. Half an hour’s rapid exercise brought 
color to her clear skin, and calmed her nerves. 
She moderated her pace, and began to take some 
notice of her surroundings. It was with a sud- 
den sharp sense of distaste and surprise mingled 
that she saw advancing toward her the well- 
known figure of Sir Jasper. 

His hat was off, and he was shaking hands 
with her before she had quite made up her mind 
what to do in order to avoid his company. 

“This is indeed fortunate, ’ ’ said the old baronet, 
his faco and voice for once sincere in their duet 
of expression. “I was just wishing for a con- 
genial companion, something in harmony with 
Nature, and, lo! Fate sends me Miss O’Hara!” 

“I’m afraid I’m not at all in harmony with 
Nature this morning,” announced Miss Em, who 
was in no mood for florid compliments, and whose 
present humor made her the reverse of diplomatic. 

She evaded his ardent glances, and stood there 
as if determined that no hint of accompanying 
her in her walk should be forthcoming. Sir 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


205 


Jasper was far too keen an observer of feminine 
weakness not to read the signs of petulance. She 
was out of temper, and had evidently no inten- 
tion of trying any of the pretty little devices of 
pleasing which he knew so well. 

This fact seemed to him rather pleasant than 
otherwise. It offered an opportunity of discover- 
ing what the genuine Miss Em was like, and also 
appealed to his vanity to soothe or render her 
forgetful of private annoyance by the charm of 
his own company. He had been a great favorite 
with women once, and he had always contrived 
to make them believe in him. His vanity was 
easily piqued; and having come out with the 
hope of this meeting, he resolved not to forego 
any possible excitement or pleasure it might 
afford. 

“Not in harmony with Nature!” he said, re- 
peating her words. “Your looks belie that speech. 
They are as radiant as the morning itself. May 
I ask if you are bound in any special direction, 
and ask you to take pity on my loneliness?” 

“1 merely came out for a walk, ” she answered; 
“but 1 intended making it a long one.” 

“The longer the better if I may only share it,” 
he said with exaggerated tenderness. 

She liiurmured something neither coherent nor 
very audible, but Sir Jasper accepted it as per- 
mission, and turned back with her at once. The 
path was hilly and bordered by shrubberies; Miss 
Em made no effoi-t to slacken her speed, and her 
companion felt half inclined to regret his persist- 
ence. Conversation was fitful, and rather one- 


206 


PEG, THE RAKE 


sided for the first half-hour; but after that Miss 
Em appeared to forget her ill -humor and her 
grievances, and became her usual gay and bril- 
liant self. The change delighted the old baronet, 
more especiall}^ as he was at liberty to attribute 
ifc to his own influence. Still, he vainly en- 
deavored to give their talk a personal or tender 
tone. Miss Em would speak of Ireland, its peo- 
ple, and its complex grievances, of home and for- 
eign politics, of “places, persons, and things,” 
in fact; but allow no meandering down side- 
paths of intimacy, and understand no hints of 
the passion she was fanning into flame with 
every successive day. 

The truth was she had a horror of being forced 
into a decision from which there could be no re- 
treat. Bo long as the future dealt with possibili- 
ties, and so long as it offered a prize to win, a 
goal to reach, life had still some degree of in- 
terest; but a marriage with Sir Jasper meant 
simply a barrier to all future pleasure or excite- 
ment — a haven certaini3% but a haven from 
whence she could only gaze out at a dull, shore- 
less oceam, stretching into limitless distance. 

But every rebuff he met with in this delicate 
fencing .was only an incentive to perseverance on 
the part of Sir Jasper. He was not in love with 
Miss Em, being far too selfish and self- engrossed 
for the . tender pa^ssion to have any effect upon 
him at this period of existence; but he was fasci- 
nated b}’ her, and her companionship offered an 
attractive contrast to that of his sour-tempered 
and penurious sister; moreover, a strong spirit 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


207 


of opposition to Miss Sabina’s judgment and 
opinions inclined him irresistibly toward one 
whom she had lost no opportunity of traducing. 

Some remark that hinted at an approaching 
departure from Dublin surprised him into an en- 
treaty that she would remain there a little longer. 
“It will be so dull without you,” he said; “1 
shall miss you mors than I can say.” 

“Miss me.?” Miss Em looked at him ques- 
tioningly, and yet with genuine surprise. “That 
is too flattering to believe. Sir Jasper,” she said. 

“I have no wish to flatter you,” he answered, 
with serious meaning. “I am only speaking the 
truth. All the pleasure I have received from my 
stay here, I owe to you. It seems rather hard 
that 1 should be deprived of it at the very mo- 
ment when I had learned my dependence.” 

“ We have been neighbors and acquaintances 
for a long time. Sir Jasper,” she said, sarcasti- 
cally, “and yet this discovery is only a fortnight 
old.” 

“That, of course, is both my fault and my 
misfortune,” he said, tenderly; “though I might 
plead as excuse the small encouragement given 
by Carrig-duve to Castle Lustrell.” 

“You cannot blame me for that,” she said, 
hurriedly, the quick blood mounting to her face. 

“Certainly not; I am prepared to sympathize 
with what I feel to be your very trying position 
there. I only wish I could feel that you would 
accept such sympathy as an assurance of my per- 
sonal regard and admiration.” 

The flush faded as quickly as it had risen; she 


208 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


made a strong elTort to laugh off the seriousness 
of the situation. “You are very good, Sir Jas- 
per, and sympathy is always a pleasant saWe to 
wounded vanity. Perhaps — now we understand 
one another better — ” 

“Ah,” he interrupted, “1 am glad to hear you 
say that! Dear Miss O’Hara, would it be quite 
impossible for you to — to overlook the disparity 
of years between us and believe in the sincerity 
of a devotion you have called to life? It may 
seem presumptuous to speak of marriage to one 
so justly admired and so deservedly popular as 
yourself ; but, at least, I can offer you along with 
such an alliance the position of independence de- 
nied you in your own home. Pra}’’ do not decide 
hastily, ’ ’ he added as she was about to speak — 
“favor me, at least, by giving some considera- 
tion to what I feel is more an appeal than an 
inducement. ’ ’ 

“You mean — you really ask me to — to — ” 
stammered Miss Em, in genuine bewilderment. 

“To be my wife. That is the plain fact. I 
may seem foolish — indeed, I frankly confess to 
you I had no idea of a second marriage until— 
until 1 felt how indispensable your society was 
becoming. ’ ’ 

“People will say that I — ” 

“That you have married the ‘old fool’ for his 
money. Let them; the world is always more or 
less uncharitable ; its falsehoods matter as little 
to me now as its judgments did once. 1 have 
learned the value of both. Perhaps age has 
brought me wisdom or— indifference ; at least, it 


BEG, THE RAKE. 


209 


has taught me the worth of a woman’s compan- 
ionship, the need of a true friend iu my hours of 
loneliness. You will not refuse some considera 
tion to these pleas,” he urged, growing eloquent 
as he read the signs of distnrbance on her face. 
“After all, it may be but for a few years the 
sacrifice would be required of you. Tell me you 
will think it over.” 

“Who hesitates is lost,” thought Miss Em, 
her mind suddenly caught and ingulfed in a con- 
flict of doubts and fears. She could not but feel 
that she had achieved a great victory, and might 
achieve a greater triumph. After being ‘ ‘ knocked 
about half her life,” as she expressed it, here 
was an end to such rough usage ; and its acknowl- 
edged drawbacks might only be brief, after all. 
Sir Jasper was old; a few years might set her 
free from the unpalatable bondage of matrimony. 
The thought of wealth and independence, the 
position of mistress of Castle Lustrell, the per- 
suasions and arguments of Lady Pat, all came 
crowding on her memory. 

She turned toward Sir Jasper and met his anx- 
ious gaze. “There is one point you have not con- 
sidered, ” she said, gravely. — “Molly! I know 
what I have suffered myself at the hands of a 
stepmother. I should not like to think I had 
made any young life as unhappy as my own was 
rendered . ” 

A slight frown darkened Sir Jasper’s brow. 
“Molly! Surely she is no obstacle — a girl just 
from school, who ought to be thankful for such 
a companion as yourself; besides, she has always 


210 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


been warmly attached to you. If that is your 
only objection I have nothing to fear.’’ 

“Will you wait for my decision until I have 
spoken to her?” 

‘ ‘ 1 must bow to your commands whatever form 
they take,” he said, biting his thin delicate lips 
with ill-concealed impatience, “but it would be 
reassuring to hear that you have no decided ob- 
jection to — myself.” 

“Oh! 1 am sure you know that. Sir Jasper. 
Indeed, I feel the honor you have done me more 
than I can express.” 

“And when may I hope to have my answer?” 

“To-morrow,” she said. “I will see Molly in 
the morning, and let you know the result.” 

He raised her hand to his lips with old-fash- 
ioned courtesy. 

“It will seem an eternity; but I can only hope 
the result will answer my anticipations.” 

They had reached the park gates, and, though 
Sir Jasper would have died sooner than confess 
to fatigue. Miss Em saw that the long walk and 
somewhat rap^id pace had taxed his feeble strength 
considerably. She suggested a cab, and they 
di^ove back to the hotel, arriving there just at 
the moment Lady Pat’s carriage stopped the en- 
trance way. She was too diplomatic to look the 
surprise she felt, and greeted Sir Jasper as if the 
circumstance of his driving about with her god- 
daughter was quite an ordinary occurrence. They 
parted at the door of Lady Pat’s sitting-room. 
Sir Jasper giving a warm pressure to the hand 
Miss Em extended, and a tender glance that 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


211 


conveyed “Remember” as plainly as any spoken 
words. 

Lady Pat shut the door, and turned an eager 
face toward her companion. “Well,” she said, 
“has he spoken?” 

Miss Em nodded carelessly. “Yes; the die is 
cast. I’m to give my answer to-morrow.” 

“To-morrow! but why did you not decide at 
once?” 

“1 — I could not!” she exclaimed, with a sort 
of despairing energy; “I never found it so hard 
to make up my mind before.” 

“Then how did you put him off?” asked Lady 
Pat, curiously. 

“I said I must consult Molly.” 

“Why, what has she to do with it?.” 

“A great deal if I’m to be her stepmother. 1 
should hate the position if she objected.” 

“You are not at all the type of objectionable 
stepmother, and I am sure Molly would greet the 
arrangement with delight. You’ll, of course, 
have to get rid of Miss Sabina; then there’s no 
earthly reason why Molly and yourself should 
not hit it off admirably.” 

“Oh! I’ve gone over all the pros and cons, ” 
said Miss Em, somewhat irritably; “and I sup- 
pose it will end in saying ^Yes.’ ” 

She took off her hat and sighed. 

“I should so much prefer going abroad with 
you, ” she added, drearily. 

“Make Sir Jasper take you to Paris for your 
honeymoon,” suggested Lady Pafc, “and then- 
go on to the Riviera. I’ll meet you there.” 


212 


peg/the rake 


Miss Em shuddered. 

“Honeymoon!’’ she exclaimed, bitterly; “as 
if our very appearance wouldn’t give the lie to 
the word. Ko, thank you; I shall stay in my 
own land and my own house — if possible. 1 have 
no illusions to destroy; no hopes to fulfill; mar- 
riage is but a matter of business, and as such 
will be conducted. ’ ’ 

“I see no reason why you should not be very 
happy,” said Lady Pat. “It is not as if you 
were marrying a mere parvenu for his money ; 
Sir Jasper is a gentleman.” 

“I never said he was not, but even gentlemen 
can be guilty of meanness and dishonor. His 
past is not stainless, and if age has improved his 
morals, it has increased his selfishness. How- 
ever, I’m tired of the subject: let us say no more 
about it. Will you send a note or message ask-^ 
ing Molly to come in this afternoon? 1 must see 
her.” 

She left the room then, nor would she come 
down to luncheon despite Lady Pat’s entreaties. 

She drew down the blinds, and threw herself 
on the bed, remaining there for hour after hour, 
staring with wide musing eyes at the dickering 
shadows on the wall, and hearing all the sounds 
of outer life in a dull, absent fashion. 

“I wonder why he wants to marry me!” she 
thought. “Perhaps when he has done so, he 
will repent it. I am not a bit the woman he 
fancies, and he certainly is no more in love with 
me than I with him.” 

Which was true enough, for Sir Jasper’s love 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


213 


centered chiefly in himself; but in the advancing 
shades of age he dreaded to find himself compan- 
ionless and comparatively alone. His daughter 
was too young, and. his sister too old and. sour, 
to be of eithwr comfort or amusement. Miss Em, 
on the other hand, had an indescribable charm. 
She had become, not a passionate necessity, but 
a daily need; a rest, not a fever, which after all 
to a man of his years was the most desirable at- 
traction a woman could possess. 

He knew nothing of those vagaries of tempera- 
ment and nature which had been so great a source 
of trouble to herself and those connected with her. 
He imagined she would be always as he had 
found her in the pleasant daily intimacy of their 
life of late. 

Had he seen her now in the grip of this dark 
hour he would have been startled and shocked. 
As it was, she let her mood run its course un- 
checked; its errant thoughts seared by the past 
are distrustful of the future. 

A knock at the door, timidly repeated more 
than once, at last struck upon her semi-con- 
scious meditations. She raised herself on one 
arm and demanded to know who was there. 

“It is I, Molly,” said the sweet girl voice, witli 
its faint Irish accent, that she knew so well. 
“May I come in for a moment?” 

Miss Em moved slowly to the door and opened 
it. The pressure of warm arms about her neck, 
of fresh young lips upon her cheek, seemed start- 
ling and strange in the gloom of her surround- 
ings. 


214 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


She said nothing, but closed the door, and drew 
the girl gently into the room. 

“Dear Miss Em, how could you doubt, how 
could you hesitate for one moment? Papa told 
me ail. What is for his happiness must be for 
mine — and you of all people! Why, in the whole 
world there is no one — no one — I would sooner 
see his wife.” 

Still Miss Em was silent, thrilled by a sense 
of calamity from which there was no escape. A 
sudden helplessness left her passive in the hands 
of a fate too recklessly challenged. 

Molly grew alarmed. The room was so dark 
that she could scarcely see the face on which her 
kisses had left the seal of this new bond; but 
something in the rigidity and silence of the fig- 
ure, and the coldness of the hands she touched, 
warned her that she had intruded upon some grief 
or trouble of whose nature she was quite- ignorant. 

“Are you ill? What is it?” she asked, -in 
alarm. 

Miss Em roused herself by a great effort.. “ 111 ? 
No, my dear, only tired, and very, very sad. I 
have had a great deal of trouble lately, and been 
obliged to keep it to myself.” 

“You poor dear!” said the girl, sympatiiiz- 
ingly. “But it will all be over now, won’t it? 
and we shall be so happy. The castle will be 
quite another place under your rule. And — ” 
she hesitated, then added, softly, as if afraid of 
her own temerity, “you won’t let Aunt Sabina 
remain there, will you?” 

“I — 1 reall}?- can’t say — I haven’t made up my 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


215 


mind,” stammered Miss Em, all her usual savoir 
faire overthrown by ^ this unexpected interview. 
“ Yon see, my dear, 1 did not accept your father’s 
offer, I-— only — ” 

“Oh, Miss Em!” cried the girl, disappointed- 
ly; “he seemed so sure you would do so. He 
said it merely rested with me, and, of course, I 
could not but be pleased — we’ve always been 
such good friends, you and I, and the thought 
of having you always with me was so delightful ! 
Why, I felt sure it was all settled.” 

Miss Em seated herself in the armchair, and 
drew the girl caressingly toward her. 

“Marriage is a serious thing, Molly,” she said, 
“It’s true I’m no young girl tired with romance, 
and full of ideals — but still there are many things 
to consider. ’ ’ 

“Papa is very fond of you; he says you are the 
most charming woman he ever met, and he only 
wishes to devote himself to your happiness.” 

“He is very good,” said Miss Em, “and his 
opinion of me is much too flattering.” 

“And you will say ‘Yes’?” whispered Molly, 
coaxjngly. “Ah, do, and make us all happy.” 

She felt the sudden quick fhrob of the heart 
against which her pretty head was leaning; it 
was well, perhaps, that she could not guess at 
the conflict raging within, or read in ^ the eyes 
gazing into deepening shadows, the despair, but 
not the peace, of an ended struggle. 

“For the happiness I dare not vouch,” said 
Miss Em; “but I will say ‘Yes,’ Molly, if you 
wish it.” 


216 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

CONGRATULATIONS. 

An earthquake, a thunderbolt, or any similar 
eccentricity of Nature could not have startled the 
inmates of Carrig-duve more than did the un- 
announced arrival of Miss Em one rainy evening 
in February. 

Mrs. O’Hara was sitting over a scanty fire, 
nursing a cold she had caught ; her spare figure 
wrapped in an old woolen shawl, and her nose 
and eyes in a sta,te of acute inflammation that 
was shared by her temper. 

A more inopportune moment for the arrival of v. 
an unwelcome guest could not well have been 
discovered, but her stepdaughter appeared quite 
indifferent to the form of her reception. 

“Well,” she said coolly, “here I am; I thought 
it was no use saying I was coming, as you never 
do kill the fatted calt in my honor ! How are 
you both?” 

She nodded carelessly toward the shawled fig- 
ure, now sitting bolt upright and surveying her 
with -freezing dignity, dropped a hurried kiss on 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


217 


the startled face of the old man opposite, and 
then stood facing them both, drawing off her 
gloves in leisurely fashion. 

“What — what is the meaning of this intru- 
sion?” demanded Mrs. O’Hara, in a voice hoarse 
with suppressed wrath and catarrh. 

“1 — beg your pardon,” said Miss Em coolly. 
“Intrusion, did you call it? I have been under 
the impression that this was my home for the 
last forty years? is it possible 1 can have made a 
mistake?” 

“ I said intrusion, and I mean it!” exclaimed' 
Mrs. O’Hara. “Your disgraceful and unwar- 
rantable conduct on the occasion of your last 
visit has forced, me to — to close my doors against 
you. I — I do not choose to harbor a thief in the' 
house any longer!” 

“Then you ought to leave it yourself, my dear 
madam, said Miss Em, quite unabashed 5 “for 
t/ie term is decidedly applicable. You helped 
yourself to my property without the least cere- 
mony, and I knew it would be useless to ask for 
its return. That you should have put those pal- 
try bits of pinchbeck of your own with what you 
knew were family jewels, was a rather foolish 
proceeding j I returned them as soon as I discov - 
ered them. As for the diamonds—” 

She paused, with something of the cruelty that 
leads a cat to spare a little breathing space to the 
mouse it has been torturing before its final de- 
struction. “As for the diamonds, they are per- 
fectly safe, as I mentioned irf my letter, and you 
can have them back, if you wish, by parting 


218 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


with a little of that gold you are so uselessly 
hoarding ; you can’t take it with you to the next 
world, you know, and you’ve no child to leave it 
to. However, ’ ’ she added, laughing at the wrath- 
ful face, “I daresay you were put out about the 
matter; still, it’s all over and done with. I had 
my position to consider, and the meanness I met 
with here was my chief inducement to help my- 
self to what I knew would be refused if asked 
for ; and really when you hear what has brought 
me back you must allow that the investment has 
produced very satisfactory interest.” 

“The fact of your coming back — ” began Mrs. 
O’Hara wrathfully. 

“Oh, it’s not for long, believe me,” said Miss 
Em; “only I thought it would look better to be 
married from here than in Dublin, and I felt sure 
I could trust to your generosity to do everything 
in a becoming manner.” 

“To — be — married!” gasped Mrs. O’Hara. 
“Impossible! you are joking.” 

“I am perfectly serious, 1 assure you. I am 
going to marry Sir Jasper Lustrell of Castle 
Lustrell, in exactly one month from the present 
time.” 

“But — but — ” stammered Mrs. O’Hara, ga 2 -- 
ing in bewilderment at the calm face and mock- 
ing eyes before her. 

“But what? Have you any objections to 
make?” demanded Miss Em, with an enjoy- 
ment of the situation that exceeded even her 
anticipations. 

“Sir Jasper— Castle Lustrell !”/ murmured Mrs. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


‘^19 


O’Hara distractedly. “I don’t believe it. We 
should have heard something. He would have 
told your father.” 

“He left the pleasure of that announcement to 
me. As I am not only ‘of hge’ but over it, there 
was no need to make a formal request for my 
hand; however, as I know you are a stickler for 
etiquette, your mind will be relieved by the morn- 
ing post.” 

She was calmly folding her gloves, but her 
eyes never relaxed their watchful observation of 
her stepmother’s face, and every sign of disturb- 
ance, and doubt and anger added zest to a long 
anticipated triumph. 

Mr. O’Hara, roused from a soothing nap, first 
by his daughter’s entrance, and then by this 
angry warfare, rose from his chair and ad- 
dressed her: “Emilia, my dear, this is scarcely 
becoming; what am I to understand?” 

Miss Em turned to him and her face softened. 
“I have promised to inarrj^ Sir Jasper Lustrell, 
father, subject, of course, to your approval. He 
is writing to you on the matter. I came home 
to tell you. I should prefer to be married from 
Carrig-diive, though Lady Pat wished me to stay 
ill Dublin and allow her to arrange everything.” 

“ISTo, no, of course not. That would never 
do!” burst forth the old man excitedly. “My 
daughter must, of course, be married from her 
father’s house, and — and everything shall be 
done in a manner befitting an O’Hara, my dear. 
It is only right that it should be. I~1 congratu- 
late you on your choice. It is most — suitable, 


220 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


and I trust you will be very happy — very 
happy.” 

He rubbed his thin hands together, and glanced 
appealingly at his wife, whose looks were any- 
thing but congratulatory. 

“That I’m sure she won’t,” snapped 4he good 
lady bitingly. “A mercenary marriage with an 
old hypochondriac who has one foot in the grave ! 
Of course, every one can see what it’s done for 
— one wants a nurse and the other a fortune! 
Marriage, indeed! I call it a disgraceful bar- 
gain, and so will every one who hears of it.” 

“I think,” said Miss Em, growing very white, 
“that you are the last person in the world to 
speak in such terms of marriage. ' You can 
scarcely pretend that you considered it from a 
very lofty standpoint, or were blind to its mate- 
rial advantages, even when you were considera- 
bly my senior. Neither have you made home so 
agreeable that I should cling to it in preference 
to an independent position, and a very enviable 
one. If you had a daughter to marry I fancy 
we should hear very little of the disadvantages 
attending Castle Lustrell and its prospective 
mistress.” 

This being far too sharp a home-thrust for 
denial, Mrs. O’Hara took refuge in portentous 
sniffs and snorts and broken ejaculations, which 
seemed to convey that Sir Jasper was a deluded 
victim and Miss Em a designing hypocrite. 

Her stepdaughter cut short these jeremiads 
abruptly, however, by announcing that she had 
arranged to have everything connected with the 


PEG, THE -RAKE. 


221 


ceremony done in firstrate style by a Dublin 
firm; that she had ordered her trousseau at one 
of the best houses, and hoped also that her fa- 
ther would at once redeem the O’Hara diamonds, 
as sh'0 would need them for the occasion. Hav- 
ing by this time reduced Mrs. O’Hara into speech- 
less rage at so much audacity, Miss Em consid- 
ered it best to retire, and swept out of the room 
in lofty triumph, secure of victory for once. 

In the bedroom she found Quinlan on her knees 
lighting a fire, as a set-off to the comfortless and 
dismantled appearance of that apartment. 

“Shure, ’twas a shame for yez not to be saying 
ye was coming back, Miss Peg dear,” said the 
old woman, bet ween puffs of smoke and energetic 
appeals from the bellows. “Goin’ away for 
months, as ye said, and thin taking us by sur- 
prise like this, and divil a bit o’ comfort in the 
house for ye ; and what I’m to send up for din- 
ner the Lord only knows. I’ve turned Bridget 
down to the tdllage; but whether she’ll be get-' 
ting flesh or fowl, or even a herrin’, is more than 
I can say. What’s brought ye back, darlin’ — 
not bad luck, I hope?” 

“ISTo,” answered her mistress, coming over tg 
the fireplace, and there standing to look thought- 
fully down at the blazing wood; “far from it. 
You remember your prophecies before I left, 
Quinlan?” 

“Faith, an’ I do. The marriage, card as sure 
as fate. An’ it’s turned up, darlin’— raly and 
truly? Ah, glory be! didn’t I always know 
you’d be in luck? Who is it, Miss Peg honey?” 


222 


PEG, THE KAKE. 


“Sir Jasper LustrelL” 

There was something almost mechanical in the 
utterance of the name. It setoed as if the full 
ripe lips had grown tired of speaking it, and the 
face to which Quinlan’s eager eyes were lifted 
looked pale and fatigued. 

“Sir Jasper!” The bellows dropped from the 
old woman’s hands, astonishment and dissatis- 
faction struggled for expression. “The ould 
baronet, him as we thought would niver be 
marrying again! Shure, ’tis the foine match 
for yez, miss, barrin’ the disparity of age.” 

Miss Em smiled listlessly. “There’s not so 
rery much difference, Quinny; a matter of 
twenty years or sp.” 

“Well, God’s blessin’ on yez, darlint, and may 
ye be happy,” said the old woman tenderly. 
“You’ll be holding your head high enough over 
Mrs. O’Hara now. It’s herself that’s aston- 
ished and envyin’ of ye. I’ll be sworn.” 

“What admirable reasons every one seems 
finding for my choice!” thought Miss Em bit- 
terly. “Did ever bride-elect, have such odd con- 
gratulations?” 

She remained standing there, looking thought- 
fully at the now blazing fire, while Quinlan fed 
it with sticks between an endless stream, of ex- 
clamations, and questions, and good wishes. 

“Now sit down, darlint, and rest,” she said, 
rising at last, and noting for the first time how 
tired and pale Miss Em looked. “I’ll soon have 
the room straight for ye. Not a week since ye 
bft but I’ve had broom and duster to it.” 


X 


THE RAKE. 223 

She wheeled the most comfortable chair to the 
fire, and Miss Em sank gratefully into its ca- 
pacious embrace, while the old woman bustled 
about, slipping off covers and arranging furni- 
ture till the room gradually assumed its familiar 
appearance. 

By this time it was quite dark, and she went 
in search of candles and of the errant Bridget, 
whr;se aid was needed to convey Miss Em’s 
trunk upstairs. 

“There!” she exclaimed, returning success- 
fully from both errands, and lighting two can- 
dles on the dressing-table: “Shure, ’tis herself 
that’s just flabbergasted, and gives me up the 
kays of the storeroom as meek as a lamb, and 
not a word to say whin I told her I’d been after 
sending Bridget for fowls for dinner. Ye shaU 
have thim in time. Miss Peg dear, and a cup o’ 
tay mane time, for ’tis just dead ye look. Now, 
don’t be botherin’ about yer box. I’ll come and 
help ye the minnit I’ve fixed the fowls for roast- 
ing; for there, Bridget’s getting the foine cook 
now, and can see to thim crathurs once they’re 
on the way. ” ' , 

“You needn’t have troubled about dinner 
for me, Quinny. A cup of tea is all I care 
about.” 

“And is it to have ye starvin’ j^erself I’d be, 
and cornin’ off a journey too? Paix, I never 
heard the likes o’ that; and if the master isn’t 
for goin’ to the wine-cellar and bringin’ up his 
best bottle o’ wine to drink luck to yez this 
blessed night, ’tis meself will be givin’ thim the 


PEG, THE-RAKE. 


taste o’ my tongue, I can promise ye, darlint, 
and no mistake.” 

Miss Em sighed wearily. How different it all 
was to the life of luxury and ease she had left 
behind! She felt more than ever justified in her 
choice. She could not have borne this state of 
things much longer; even the excitement of 
“rows” would have palled upon her. • The 
penury and mismanagement, the tyranny and 
discomfort of her stepmother’s rule, would soon 
be exchanged for something widely different. 

“I did wisely to come here,” she thought, 
looking round the room and noting keenly how 
shabby and worn was the furniture. “Every 
day will teach me how much I have to gain, 
how little to lose.” 

When Quinlan returned to help unpack, she 
found her still sitting there in the same attitude, 
not a trace of its usual energy in the listless fig- 
ure, or the pale tired face. The old woman felt 
seriously uneasy. She forced her to drink some 
hot tea, and eat a few morsels of crisp thin 
toast. She brought a footstool for her ieet, 
and made up the fire, and drew the curtains, 
and, leaving the dinner to take its chance 
under Bridget’s charge, she unpacked the 
trunk that had been so jubilantly filled but a 
few weeks before. 

When everything was arranged in drawers 
and cupboards to her satisfaction, she looked 
triumphantly round. “Ye’ll be having yer own 
maid of course at the castle. Miss Peg, and a 
grand one T make no doubt; but she won’t bring 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


225 


the heart to yer service that I’ve brought these 
many years.” 

“I’m sure of that, Quinny,” said Miss Em, 
rousing herself by an effort, and looking grate- 
fully at the wrinkled face and loving eyes. 
“There’s no friends like the old friends after 
-all; and now, tell me,” she added somewhat 
hurriedly, “is there any news in the village; 
any one born, or married, or dead?” 

Quinlan reflected. “Shure, j^e’ve not been so 
long away, darlint; and ’^is little time I’ve had 
for gossip, what with the mistress ill, and the 
ructions over thim diamonds, and Bridget that 
contrairy on account of Tim the postman keepin’ 
company with Mrs. MacShamus’s housemaid 
after as good as promisin’ Bridget.” 

Miss Em moved restlessly in her chair. “The 
doctor and his wife are well, I suppose? And, 
by the way, did you ever hear how the old man 
at Rooklands was going on?” 

“Morrison, is it? shure an’ he’s dead, darlint; 
didn’t ye hear?” 

“No — o— !” faltered Miss Em. “Dead, at 
last! And the money?” 

“Left to the son, ivery penny on it. Eaix, ’tis 
he’s the rich man now, so they’re sayin’, and no- 
mistake, though divil a sow! has had sight or 
v/Lirrd o’ him since the buryin’, and that was 
nothing much to spake of; not one of the quality 
there, and only the darlin’ doctor and Denis 
Morrison himself to follow the hearse.” 

“But, Quinny!” exclaimed Miss Em eagerly, 
“surel}^the mj^stery is out now?” 


‘>26 


PEC4, THE RAKE. 


The old woman shook her head. “There was 
no will left, so I’ve heard. The ould gintleman 
kept the saycret to the last, and jist handed 
i very thing over to Denis by deed o’ gift or some 
sich contrivance, so the doctor tould me. And 
’tis he, Denis Morrison, I’m maning, can kape 
the silent tongue in his head, and manes to do 
it. But of course ivery one will take notice of 
him now, without axing questions. Shure, riches 
is a great power. Miss Peg.” 

“And he will be rich and owner of Rooklands?” 
said Miss Em, in a slow, mechanical way. “How 
strange it all seems, after all these years.” 

“Now, don’t yez be letting yerself think av 
all thim past troubles, darlint, ” said the old 
woman. “Shure, rich or poor, he was never 
the match for ye, lavin’ alone his wildness and 
wickedness; and proud and glad I am that ye’ll 
be able to show him that Shure, ’tis the best 
day’s news I’ve heard this long time.” 

“I — I — don’t know why I did it!” exclaimed 
Miss Em, suddeiily. “I was tired of this life, 
but perhaps the exchange won’t be for the bet- 
ter. Sometimes I hate the thought — Sir Jasper 
— everything; at others I know it is not only my 
best chance, but my last.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure o’ that, darlint; 
you’ve no need to put yerself on the shelf yeb 
a while. But, shure, never a one in the place 
will be a better mistress for the castle, and gi*ac0 
her velvets and her jules as ye will.” 

“I should like it known as soon as possible, 
Quinny,” said Miss Em, suddenly and decidedly. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


227 


“There’s no need for secrecy, and it will be very 
soon — a month from to-day.” 

“The sooner the better, Miss Peg de^ir. ’Tis 
the hard time you always have av it here, and 
little else but worry and ructions and bothera- 
tions. Is it to be a grand wedding?” 

‘ ‘ It will be one befitting the position, age, and 
prospects of bride and bridegroom,” was the 
answer. 

Quinlan looked at her somewhat doubtfully. 
“Ye’re — ye’re not unhappy, or troubled, are yez, 
darlint?” 

“No,” replied Miss Em, rising, and pushing 
back the disarranged hair from a face that be- 
lied her words; “not unhappy. I seem to have 
become numbed to my own identity, that’s all. 
I don’t care to look forward — I am afraid to 
look back. If I could just live on from day 
today without thinking — but then I should cease 
to be human.” 

The old woman was silent, dimly feeling that 
something sad and desolate lurked under the 
reckless words, and conscious, too, of a feeling 
that prompted her to take the tired, drooping 
figure in her arms as if she Avere the child of old, 
and soothe her with tender words and caresses 
as she had so often done. But something in the 
face, the changed aspect, the curious hardenhig 
and coldness of expression chilled fhe impulse, 
and kept her silent. 

“Can I do anything more for yez. Miss Peg 
dear?” she asked, kindly, vyith a sudden memory 
of cidinary duties, and Bridget. 


228 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“No, Quinny, no,” said Miss Em, rousing her- 
self with an effort; “I feel quite rested, and I 
shall change my dress and go downstairs di- 
rectly. Dinner at seven, I suppose?’*" 

“Yes, my dear. ’Twill be a poor show after 
what ye’ve been havin’ with Lady Moira, but 
’deed ye know that’s no fault of Mary Quin- 
lan’s.” 

“It’s not the dinner, but the long, lung, lonely 
evening,” cried Miss Em, drearily. “Oh, these 
evenings, Quinny!” 

“Well, ’tis not for long now, darlint. Ye’re 
tired to-night, and that makes yez feel low. But 
ye’ll be all right to-morrow, and ivery one in the 
place talkin’ and congratulatin’ ye.” 

“Oh, yes!” — she laughed bitterly; “I shall be 
all right to-morrow.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


229 


CHAPTER XIX. 

“how should I GREET THEE?” 

A FEMININE conclave was assembled in Mrs. 
MacShamus’s drawing-room, and tongues were 
eager in discussion, sounding various notes of 
incredulity, wonder and spite. 

The subject was not hard to guess. 

Miss Em had been but two days at Carrig- 
duve, and already the trumpet-blast of gossip 
had sent her name forth coupled with the aston- 
ishing announcement that she was to marry Sir 
Jasper Lustrell. 

The extreme unpopularity of Mrs. O’Hara had 
long barred the gates to visitors, though Mrs. 
Pigott and Mrs. MacShamus still called at rare 
intervals; therefore such important personages 
as the Barringtons and the Markhams could not 
condescend to the formality of a call, though 
dying with curiosity to know if the rumor were 
true or not. 

“If any one would know it would be Mrs. 
MacShamus,” was the general decision; and by 


230 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


an odd coincidence the universal curiosity re- 
solved itself into a unanimous call on that" 
lady. 

Great was the bridling and tossing of heads . 
when the rumor was pronounced perfectly cor- 
rect, and the old lady’s panegyrics on her favorite 
declared her good fortune to be well deserved. 

The Barrington girls “hoped she would like 
being tied to a selfish old invalid, who any one 
could see was only marrying for a nurse.” 
Mrs. Pigott, the rector’s wife, trusted that such 
a union might be blessed, but for her part, she 
could but consider it most unsuitable. Every 
one knew what an erratic and peculiar creature 
Miss Em was and how flighty she had always 
been. Of course she might settle down now, but 
still— 

An italicized doubt was significant of her own 
want of faith in any such change for the better, 
and set tongues wagging in a new direction. 
“What sort of wedding would it be?” “What 
did Mrs. O’Hara think of it?” “Doubtless she 
would be glad to get rid o‘f her troublesome step- 
daughter; they had never agreed, and it was 
well known the scenes' at Carrig-duve had been 
something fearful.” “It was all owing to Miss 
Em’s extravagance that her people had been beg- 
gared; indeed, Mrs. O’Hara had once hinted at 
card debts whose total was simply appalling,” 
and so on, and so on, with that delight in expos- 
ing error, and ignoring any virtue that redeems 
it, that is so truly characteristic of feminine 
malice. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


2:31 


Suddenly, into the hubbub of discussion and 
scandal, entered calm and triumphant the very 
person who was being discussed. Beautifully 
dressed, aimed cap-a-pie for an encounter of 
which she had been almost certain, and brim- 
ming over with enjoyment of the situation. Miss 
Em “took the room,” so to speak, with a dignity 
there was no denying. 

Even the armed neutrality of Mrs. Pigott was 
not proof against her radiant graciousness; and 
though the conversation at first dealt merely with 
generalities, it was not long before the great sub- 
ject was introduced, and the assembly found it- 
self offering congratulations of the customary 
stereotyped form. 

Miss Em received them with the self-posses- 
sion of a sovereign accepting her just rights. 
She neither looked conscious nor foolish.. Her 
soon- to- be acquired honors seemed to fit her 
naturally and easily; and not the most daring 
of her traducers could throw in a hint at the 
unsuitability of the union they had just been 
lamenting. 

“The marriage was to be soon; almost too 
soon for her taste,” Miss Em announced; “but 
Sir Jasper wished it, and there was really no 
reason for opposing his wishes. Molly also was 
desirous that her stepmother should be at the 
castle with as little delay as possible. So sweet 
of her, you know,” Miss Em went on with a 
glance at the discomfited faces. “She welcomes 
me quite as a sister, and 1 certainly prefer the 
role to that of stepmother. Indeed, the one ob- 


232 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


jection I had to accepting Sir Jasper arose chiefly 
from the fact of his possessing a grown-up daugh- 
ter, but i\\Q\v joint entreaties overruled my scru- 
ples at last.” 

^^Her scruples, indeed!” thought- the rector’s 
wife. “Fine scruples they must have been! 
Angling with ail her arts for that foolish old 
man, and pretending it was he who wanted to 
marry her. I call it disgusting.” 

By way of emphasizing her feelings she rose 
abruptly, and bade a hurried good - by to her 
hostess and the assembly in general. It was 
singular that the said assembly immediately 
made a unanimous discovery as to the lateness 
of the hour, and the necessity for getting to their 
respective homes. There was a stir and bustle, 
a stormy rustling of skirts, an interchange of 
rapid remarks and farewells; and then Miss Em 
found herself sole occupant of the drawing-room, 
Mrs. MacShamus having accompanied her nieces 
to the hall door, to see that the delicate and neu- 
ralgic Minnie was safely shawled and wrapped 
against the effect of the chilly evening air. 

When a man is left alone he generally thinks 
of a cigar, and lets his hand stray fondly to his 
coat pocket. A woman in the first exigencies of 
solitude looks round for a mirror. Miss Em, 
catching a vision of becoming head- gear in the 
glass over the mantel-shelf, marched straight to- 
ward it, and took in the flattering reflection with 
no small pride. 

Her toilet that afternoon had cost her an in- 
finitude of thought and care. She well knew the 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


^ 233 


keen eyes that would vivisect her appearance, 
and every detail had been studied in order to 
make the whole a success. 

Resting one foot on the fender, she stbod look- 
ing at herself as critically as her severest judge 
could have done, and so absorbed was she in 
the study that the sound of male voices scarcely 
roused her. 

“Only the doctor, I suppose,” she thought as 
the door opened. She did not alter her position, 
,but kept her eyes on the mirijor. The figure in 
the doorway was reflected there ; and her gaze, 
at first so indifferent, flashed on it a look of ter 
ror, while the color rushed from cheek and lips,, 
leaving a white frozen face that bore little like- 
ness to the glowing life and warmth at which 
-she had been gazing a moment before. 

Slowly, uncertainly, ' as if compelled against 
her will, she turned, and for an instant’s space, 
the advancing and the motionless figure faced 
each other. A quick breath, the sounding of a 
name, a hurried recognition, and then as hurried 
a shrinking back. She noted it all while sum- 
moning to her aid every power of concealment, 
and every sign of indifference of which her own 
face and voice were capable. 

“Mr. — Morrison, 1 believe? How do you do? 
It is so many years since we met I scarcely be- 
lieved you would recognize me.” 

“That’s not true,” answered the stranger, 
roughly; “even in the dark street that winter 
night I knew 3 ^ou at once. Men haven’t such 
short memories as women, thank God!” 


234 . 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


There was a certain hrusquerie and rough- 
ness about him that broke down her more deli- 
cate fencing without scruple. It frightened and 
yet pleased her. The color stole warmly back to 
her face ; in the dim light of the room she looked 
strangely young and attractive to those fierce, 
wild e5^es that swept over her so boldly. 

“How little you’ve changed!” he said at last. 
“In all these years, too. Why, I’m an old man! 
— look!” 

He raised his hand and swept the thick hair 
back from his brow. She' saw it was quite 
gray. 

“I suppose you’ve heard about my luck,” he 
went on, abruptly, “if it deserves to be called 
that. I daresay it sounds odd to say I was 
sorry for the old man, and yet I was. Not that 
1 had much to thank him for while he lived. 
And when I’d money enough of my own with- 
out his, of course it was thrown at my head,” 

“ Wealth is a good thing,” said Miss Em, care- 
lessly, as she seated herself oniihe couch; “very 
few people complain of having too much of it. 
Do you intend to settle down at Rooklands?” 

“Yes,” he said; “I do. I’ve no particular 
affection for my native place, but I owe it a 
grudge which I’m going to pay off in my own 
fashion, and in a manner it least expects.” 

She had no time to ask or hear more, for at 
this moment the doctor came bustling in, having 
heard from his wife that Miss Em was in the 
drawing-room. His sharp eyes glanced from 
one to the other as he shook hands with her, and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


235 


bade Denis Morrison take a chair ; but he could 
read nothing in either of their faces to give any 
clew to the feelings this unexpected meeting 
might have aroused. 

“I suppose,” he said, “1 needn’t go through 
the form of introducing you, though it must be, 
dear me— ten — fifteen, or more, years since you 
left us, Denis. Faith, time flies in these Sleepy 
Hollows of villages. One year’s so like another 
there’s nothing to mark or take count of ” 

“It’s a long time,” said Denis Morrison, 
thoughtfully. 

“Long enough for friends, foes, and feuds to 
be buried and forgotten,” remarked Miss Em, 
with a swift look that was as swiftly averted. 

“I never forget,” he said, curtly. 

“A bad habit,” laughed the doctor, “and 
mighty inconvenient, too. Never make memory 
a storehouse if you want to get any happiness 
out of life.” 

“1 never did expect — that,” was the answer. 
“It’s never shown a particularly pleasant face to 
me, or fulfilled any promise it made.” 

“Well, well; we all find fault with it more or 
less,” said the doctor good-humoredly; “and I 
suppose we’d do just the same if we had our okvn 
way of it. We are all Faint-hearts when duty 
is disagreeable, and giants when it’s pleasant. 
However, you’ve no need to complain of luck 
now, Morrison. The ‘long lane’ has had a par- 
ticularly pleasant turning for you.” 

“One can only value money for what it 
brings, not its own sake. I’ve yet to discover 


230 


PEG, THE RAKE 


whether mine will purchase anything worth 
having.” 

“You’ll be hard to please, if it doesn’t,” said 
Doctor MacShamus, v/ith a keen glance at the 
square sun-browned face and well-knit figure. 
How strong and handsome and self-reliant he 
looked ! The mere boyish beauty of youth had 
been replaced by the stern molding of manhood. 
Strong passions and strong will might still strug- 
gle for mastery, but the will would gain the vic- 
tory over the passions, if physiognomy was to be 
believed. 

It seemed to Miss Em that every line and look 
of that altered face had fastened upon her mem- 
ory in one brief glance. Outwardly calm and 
indifferent, her every pulse was throbbing and 
thrilling to remembered happiness. The pas- 
sage of Time seemed brief as a dream; a fresh 
sweet current of life flowed in her veins. Hope, 
rebaptized, lent itself to strange imaginings. 

“He is so changed. We are both so much 
wiser and older. Why should we not be friends? 
I like that strong, steadfast look of his ; he was 
always masterful, but now one feels it would not 
be for the mere sake of tyranny he would seek to 
bend one to his will, but simply because that 
will was best. And he has not forgotten— how 
strange it seems! Twenty years of absence, 
hardship, knocking about the world, and yet to 
remember one year that antedated all.” 

The doctor’s voice broke across the current of 
her thoughts and stemmed the advancing tide of 
sentiment by a rough barrier of facts. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


237 


“I was going up to Carrig-duve, ” he said, 
‘/this evening You mustn’t think the worse c f 
me for being a bit behind with my good wishes. 
Faith, Miss Em, you’ve given us all a surprise, 
and a welcome one too. My old lady has been 
just off her head with delight since she heard it. 
Divil a word of sense have 1 got out of her these 
two days.” 

Miss Em started, recalled to prose and actuality. 

“1 — I suppose you were surprised,” she said, 
her face slightly averted from the keen blue eyes 
that had suddenly questioned its composure. 

“Well, I’ve made it a rule not to be surprised 
at anything,” answered the doctor, rubbing his 
hands together in a cheery fashion; “but I must 
confess this rather proved an exception. I’m 
glad we’re not losing you, though. I was afraid 
it would be an Englishman when you did make 
up your mind.” 

“Oh, no, I’m true to rny country, with all its 
faults. But where’s Mrsi MacShamus, doctor? 
I’ve scarcely had a word with her, and I must 
be going home directly.” 

“Faith, and if you think we’re going to let 
you off like that you’re rriightily mistaken,” an- 
swered the doctor. “You’ll just stay the even- 
ing now you are here. ’Twill be time enough 
to be giving us the go-by when you’re Lady 
Lustrell, but I won’t hear of it before.” 

There was a slight nervous movement of the 
figure in the adjoining chair, but no comment 
broke the silence following these last words, and 
the entrance of Mrs. MacShamus was a welcome 


238 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


interruption to .the feeling of restraint that 
seemed to have seized upon, them all. 

“They’ve gone at last,” she said. “What an 
odd thing that I’ve been weeks without a soul to 
see me, and then they all fix upon the same day ! 
Now, Miss Em dear, come and take your bonnet 
off, for I am not going to part with you yet. 
Mr. Morrison, won’t you stay too and have a cup 
of tea with us? I’m sure it’s very lonely for 
you up at the big house now.” 

Denis Morrison rose abruptly. 

“You’re very kind, but I can’t stay to-night. 
I’ve some- business to attend to. Indeed, I drove 
in to meet the lawyer and take him back.” 

“The Dublin train is due in ten minutes, I’m 
sorry to say,” observed the doctor. 

“I know. I shall only just get to the station 
in time, so I’ll say good-by at once.” 

He shook hands with them all. There was no 
discernible shade of difference in the manner of 
his doing so. Perhaps Miss Em had expected 
that there would be ; but the careless touch and 
mechanical “good by” conveyed nothing — nei- 
ther remembrance, nor regret, nor reproach. 

The excitement of whist with a dummy, fol- 
lowed by shilling imp, failed to arouse any great 
interest in Miss Em. She tried her best to re- 
turn the doctor’s cheery jests and jokes as to her 
forthcoming marriage with her old gayety of 
manner, and to gossip over Dublin folk and 
Dublin news, as if she enjoyed the subjects un- 
der discussion; but she alone knew how much of 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


239 


effort was concerned in doing it all, and how the 
emotions so well controlled began to resent the 
unprofitable strain put upon them. 

She left early, frying in vain to avoid the doc- 
tor’s proffered escort; but he was inexorable, de- 
claring the future Lady Lustrell to be a person 
of vast importance, for whose welfare he felt in 
a measure responsible. 

The way seemed interminable; she longed 
with every fiber of her being for solitude and 
silence, and it seemed as if they were never to 
be hers. The one subject about which her 
thoughts hovered was the one which the doctor 
avoided; and, for once, a sense of dread that 
was almost cowardice prompted her from bring- 
ing it forward. 

Besides, what could it matter to her now? 

Long years ago two paths had diverged so 
widely that they could never join again. If 
absence had been powerless against memory it 
was equally powerless against the barrier those 
years of severance had erected. 

“I never thought we should meet again,” said 
Feminine self deception. 

“You hoped it, always,” said Truth sternly. 

The duet lasted with persevering monotony 
throughout that walk 

It sounded even through the cheery strains of 
the doctor’s farewell words. Its echoes floated 
through the dreary hall of Carrig-duve, and en- 
tering the silent house refused to be shut out 
even when the welcome solitude of her own room 
at last closed ardund Miss Em. 


240 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“if SORROW HAS TAUGHT ME ANYTHING.” 

SwMFTLY enough the days and weeks flew bj*, 
each lessening in its flight that cherished liberty 
of spinsterhood so dear to Miss Em’s heart. 

Latterly she had thrown herself with almost 
feverish recklessness into the preparations for 
her marriage, and, to use Mrs. O’Hara’s expres- 
sion, was bent on “turning the whole house up- 
side down.” Carrig-duve awoke from its long 
spell of lonely quiet, and burst forth into bustle 
and noise and confusion. Xew servants rioted 
in the kitchen, and drove Mrs. O’Hara wild with 
extravagant demands ; rooms were prepared for 
guests ; the sound of broom and brush and pail 
was an hourly annoj^ance to the sordid mistress 
of the house; carpets and curtains long laid by 
in storeroom or cupboard were unearthed, and 
returned to their respective uses, and, when all 
was completed, the old mansion looked as for 
years it had not ventured to look, and Miss Em 
at last declared herself satisfied. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


241 


Mrs. O’Hara might groan in spirit, but for 
once she had to submit to the will of husband 
and stepdaughter. The dignity of the O’Haras 
demanded certain forms and ceremonies, and her 
only consolation was that it was for the last time. 

Once the obnoxious “Emilia” was out of the 
way and safely married, there would be no one 
to interfere with her penurious designs, and a 
future of rigorous econmoy might in some meas- 
ure atone for present useless extravagance. 

Lady Patricia and her maid arrived two days 
before the wedding, and Miss Bedelia on the 
previous evening; Molly, who was the only 
bridesmaid, had also come over that day, and 
was to sleep at Carrig-duve so as to be ready 
for the important ceremony next morning. 

The dinner-party, arranged b}^ Miss Em, con- 
sisted of these three guests^ Sir Jasper and his 
nephew, Dr. and Mrs. MacShamus, and Charley 
Warren, the cousin of the Barrington girls. 

The shabby old dining-room looked wonderful 
in the soft glow of lamplight and candles; the 
napery and glass and silver would have done 
credit to the castle itself; and Miss Em had 
wisely decided on simplicity and excellence, in- 
stead of profusion, in drawing out the menu, 
with the result that cooking and service were 
beyond reproach. 

Mr. O’Hara seemed to have taken a fresh lease 
of life, and glowed and beamed on his guests 
from the head of the well-appointed table, as had 
been his wont in days of old when Carrig-duve 
had been renowned for hospitality and style. 


242 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Miss Em herself looked radiant. She was 
dressed in black lace, a few of the famous dia- 
monds sparkling amid its dusky softness. Ex- 
citement lent brilliance to her gray eyes and 
flushed her cheek, and whatever of art had been 
called into requisition to efface the marks of 
time, had, at least, the merit of doing its duty, 
and offending neither eye nor taste by obvious 
advertisement. 

Every one seemed in excellent spirits. Molly 
was seated by Paddy Kearney and was blissfully 
ignorant of all or everything besides that fact ; 
Lady Pat was entertaining Mr. O’Hara; Sir 
Jasper was politely attentive to his hostess, 
while observant of his fiancee^ who sat between 
the doctor and Charley Warren; while Mrs. 
MacShamus and Miss Bedelia discussed recipes 
and domestic grievances and changes in Ireland, 
with a zest that was only secondary to their en- 
joyment of the excellent dinner itself. 

Once or twice some thought of the morrow 
flashed across Miss Em’s memory, and she 
caught her breath with a sudden spasm of fear 
that banished the jest on her tongue, or the 
laugh on her lip. Once or twice her eyes met 
those coldly watchful eyes of the man so soon to 
be her husband; and the dislike and fear, coiled 
about her heart like a dreaming snake, would 
begin to wake and stir with a sense of apprehen 
sion. But the bid reckless spirit soon re-asserted 
itself, and banished the dread and mocked at the 
repugnance. 

, She was not of the type of whom female slaves 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


243 


are made; and while she studied Sir Jasper, rec- 
ognizing all the good “points” of the stately fig- 
ure, the clear-cut features, the austere elegance 
of dress and appearance, she was inwardly re- 
solving to presep-e her own independence intact 
from the outset of matrimonial life, and to mark 
out with accurate distinctness the road she in- 
tended to take. 

When the ladies withdrew and were seated in 
the drawing-room. Miss Bedelia approached her 
niece with some ceremony, and handed her a 
morocco case, with the announcement that it 
was her wedding-gift. Miss Em opened it and 
disclosed a set of emeralds and diamonds repos- 
ing on a bed of white velvet. An exclamation 
of delight escaped her, and Lady Pat and Molly 
echoed it as she turned toward them with the 
open case in her hand. 

“They’ll become you well,” said Miss Bedelia, 
“and they’ll not make a bad show when you 
wear them along with your own diamonds. The 
mistress of Castle Lustrell will need jewels, and, 
indeed, ’tis a pity that so many of the O’Hara 
diamonds. are gone out of the family. Well do I 
remember your poor mother when she wore them 
at the Lord Lieutenant’s ball the first year she 
was married.” 

She sighed and glanced around the great shab- 
by drawing-room. “Ah, many’s the change 
since then,” she murmured regretfully. 

The sigh that emphasized her words and the 
glance that marked them, fired Mrs. O’Hara’s 
already smoldering wrath to bursting-point. 


244 PEG, THE KAKE. 

“indeed, Miss O’Hara,” she exclaimed, “the 
ciianges you speak of are only the results of fam- 
ily follies. It’s hard work I’ve had trying to 
repair the fortune that was being wasted in riot- 
ous living, and senseless extravagance!” 

“Riotous living!” exclaimed Miss Bedelia, 
firing up in defense of the family honor; “and 
pray, ma’am, what do you know of how a good 
old family should live or behave, or keep up the 
traditions of its race? I’d have you know that 
no O’Hara yet was ever guilty of meanness, or 
hadn’t bed and board for the friend who needed 
them. Carrig-duve vras something to be proud 
of in those days, let me tell you, But there, 
there, what’s the use to speak of it? Alien blood 
can’t understand what Irish hospitality meant in 
the old times that are gone.’^ 

“It meant drunkenness and wantoning; it 
meant beggary and shame for those that came 
after; it meant debt and disorder and disgrace!” 
cried Mrs. O’Hara furiously. “Don’t talk to me 
of your good old families. Ireland has only 
them to thank for its present condition of desti- 
tution and misrule. .Better live on bread and 
cheese and be honest and pay your debts, than 
keep up a show of extravagance, and be liberal 
with other people’s money!” 

“Oh, pray don’t begin that old argument,” 
interposed Miss Em hastily. “We are never 
likely to agree, and surely it’s time to bury the 
hatchet at last. Talking of the past won’t alter 
it or mend the future either. Come, Aunt Be- 
delia,” and she put her hand on the irate spin- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


245 


ster’s arm and drew her aside, “you promised to 
tell me your new recipe for curry, ’ ’ she gentl}^ 
insinuated. “I’d be glad to know of it, for 
Molly tells me the cook at Castle Lustrell is not 
famous for novelties.” 

Miss Bedell a was mollified, and consented to 
impart the valuable knowledge her niece desired. 
“But don’t be after telling her how to do' it,” 
she added as a caution. “The economy of the 
thing would be its virtue in her eyes. When 
folks are mean, you can’t expect them to go 
against the grain, and the saving of an ounce of 
butter or a single egg would make Mrs. O’Hara 
happy for a month.” 

This was so true that Miss Em laughed. 
“Don’t you wonder at all — this?” she asked, 
with a comprehensive wave of the hand. “A 
fine battle 1 had, I can tell you! But 1 was de- 
termined to leave the old place with credit, and 
I simply took the law into my own hands, or- 
dered in servants and everything that was neces- 
sary, and declared I’d borrow the money from 
Sir Jasper if she wouldn’t let my father pay; 
that shamed her, 1 think.” 

“I’m surprised that was possible,” said 
Miss Bedelia, with an acrimonious glance at 
the lady in question. “Has she treated herself 
to a new gown for to-morrow?” she added 
abruptly. 

“Oh, no!” laughed Miss Em; “that would be 
the height of extravagance ! She has had her 
green Silk altered a little, and is going to wear 
that.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


240 

“Green? why ’tis the most unlucky color she 
could wear at a wedding. ” 

“Perhaps that’s why she selected it. After 
all, what does it matter? It’s not 1 who am 
going to wear it.” 

“1 hope you’ll be happy, my dear,” said Miss 
Bedelia, warmly. “You’ve waited long, but 
you’ve made an excellent choice at last. ’Tis a 
fine position, and Sir Jasper’s none so old but 
that he’ll make a very creditaljle husband. And 
now tell me all about the trousseau; I’m 
sorry not to have seen it. I hear that muslin 
insertion and fine tucks are so much used, 
and — ” 

“Yes, yes,” interposed Miss Em; “I’ve had 
the very latest fashion, and a dozen of every- 
thing. I’ll show you my dress by-and-by, if 
you’ll come up to my room. I was determined 
to be married in my traveling gown; it saves 
two toilets and — and is more suitable,” she 
added, hurriedly. 

“What’s the color?” asked Miss Bedelia. 

“Che.otnut brown silk, and I’ve a traveling 
cloak of cloth to match, for going away in, and 
a plain felt hat. I — I don’t want to be taken for 
a bride.” 

“I quite understand, and your taste is always 
excellent,” said Miss Bedelia. “Shall you be 
away long?” 

“I hope to goodness — notP' exclaimed Miss 
Em, with a passionate vehemence that startled 
her questioner. “I — I mean I’d rather be home 
and settled down; I’m tired of knocking about. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


247 


and it’s so long since I’ve known what a house 
of my own is like.’’ _ 

“I can well believe that,” said Miss Bedelia, 
with a vindictive glance at her enemy, who was 
sitting by the fireplace in sulky dignity, exchang- 
ing occasional frigid remarks with Lady Pat. 
“It’s but a poor place this has been for many a 
long year. However, my dear, you’ve a bright 
and prosperous future before you, and that will 
make amends for all you’ve had to put up with. 
Ah, here come the gentlemen. I must have a 
few words with Sir Jasper; ’tis very proud I 
am of the connection, I assure you, my dear 
child, and not a bit regretful that you’ve waited 
so long now you’ve done so well at last.” 

‘•Do7Z6 so ivelir^ echoed Miss Em, bitterly; 
“have I indeed done so well? If they only knew 
what I feel, to-night!” 

The party broke up early, for Sir J asper had 
a long drive before him, and there was a certain 
restraint and strangeness upon them all that 
nothing seemed to disperse, and for which no 
one could account. 

Perhaps it originated with Miss Em, whose 
spirits seemed to flag suddenly, as if the effort 
to keep up was beyond her. Mrs. O’Hara was 
sulky and silent, and Lady Pat had hard work 
to “keep the ball rolling” and entertain the cir- 
cle generally. But, even she felt it was a relief 
when the guests of the evening departed, and 
the house party were free to seek their respective 
chambers. 

She lingered for a moment on the threshold of 


248 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Miss Em’s door, as if half expectant of an in- 
vitation to enter ; but it was a very white, tired 
face that turned itself apologetically to her, and 
very tremulous lips that murmured, “Good 
night.” 

Lady Pat kissed her warmly. “I can see you 
are done up,” she said. “Promise me you’ll go 
to bed and try to sleep at once. Don’t sit up 
thinking^ whatever you do.” 

The door closed. A haggard, weary woman 
stood alone in the room that from childhood had 
been so familiar to her. Her eyes glanced from 
one object to another, insignificant enough to 
strangers, but full of unconscious eloquence to 
herself ; full of the life and sunshine and prattle 
of harmless, innocent days; full also of a vvider 
meaning as childhood reached the golden border- 
land of youth; then, touched with deeper signifi- 
cance by the hand of Time, speaking of weary 
vigils kept here; of griefs spent, yet unforgotten; 
of sorrows drifting hither and thither like clouds 
in a brooding sky, settling at last in one heavy 
mass to break and spend themselves in stormy 
warfare. 

Long and deep was that spell of silence. 

The sounds in the house hushed one by one, 
and the solitude and stillness shut in that mo- 
tionless figure as a wall may entomb life. She 
was back in the past of happy years; a girl 
dreaming a girl’s fancies, hoping a girl’s hopes, 
idealizing a girl’s idyls, trusting with a girl’s 
innocent faith. 

So small and weak a thing in a world so vast 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


249 


and cruel! A thing to be molded by Fate, to 
be the sport of circumstance, to look back on a 
life so different from what' hope and intention 
had purposed it should be, that she could scarcely 
recognize in the woman of forty one point of re~ 
semblance to the girl of eighteen. 

Thought brought her back gradually to the 
present hour, yet spemed to flash v/ith sickening 
suddenness upon her long dream of “what had 
been.” She started and moved slowly across 
the room, impelled by_some irresistible power to 
unlock that storehouse of events, suggestions, 
possibilities, which had held the treasures of her 
vanished youth, and was now but the charnel- 
house of memory. 

Once more the book was in her hand; the flut- 
tering leaves breathed forth their story, faint 
with the perfume of dead summers, dim as colors 
sun-dried and forever unmatchable because of 
that fact, at once a blemish and a beauty. 

Page after page was rapidly scanned; tear* 
blotted scrawls, hurried entries, long rhapsodies, 
clearly written, sparkling with fun and humor, 
brimful of, youth ’^s light-heartedness. 

Heavy tears fell slowly on the last page. The 
eyes that shed them looked back at their own 
reflection and read there the sequel to that girlish 
story. 

Every line of the altered face emphasized its 
shame and sorrow. Past and present stood side 
by side in the quiet darkness and pointed warn- 
ingly to the future. 

For the 3"ears change but our outward form, 


250 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


they do not change ourselves. As we were, we 
are. Modified or hardened perhaps by life’s hard 
bondage, but still recognizable to our own inner 
sight, even as the design of the artist is visible 
to himself through its faulty embodiment of 
workmanship. 

The candles had almost burned themselves out. 
Midnight had long since sounded its note of warn- 
ing when the solitary occupant of the darkening 
room at last roused herself. 

She looked irresolutely- at the thick volume 
in her hand and then at the grate where the 
last gleams of firelight flickered among gray 
ashes. 

“I ought to destroy it,” she said to herself. 
“On the threshold of a new life it is best to have 
done with the old, and women’s secrets are so 
easily twisted into sins.” 

She moved slowly toward the fireplace, and 
stood there holding the book, her fingers trem- 
bling on the pages she was nerving herself to 
tear out. 

Suddenly there sounded in the stillness a soft 
yet imperative tap, as of some one knocking at 
the window from without. 

She started. Her face, gray with terror, 
turned itself in the direction from wdience the 
noise came. The book dropped from her hand 
to the floor, and there lay unheeded. Once again 
the knock was repeated, louder and more impera- 
tive. 

She crossed the room and drew up the blind, 
but started back with a faint scream of terror as 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


1^51 


she caught sight of a face pressed against the 
window. 

The outer hasp was turned, and a figure stepped 
from the little stone balcony into the dimly lighted 
room. 

• “Don’t scream, for God’s sake . . . I 
won’t stay five minutes, but speak to you I 
must. You wouldn’t answer my letter, and 
I’ve haunted the village till I’m sick of every 
shop and shanty that it holds ! But I swore I’d 
see you once again before — before you married 
that old fool! Peg, don’t look as if 1 were a 
murderer, I’m only desperate. Will you listen?” 


252 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXL 

I 

A BRIDAL EVE. 

‘‘1 WILL listen,” said Miss Em. 

She drew herself up to her full height, and 
mo^ed a few steps away from the intruder. Her 
courage had returned. Her eyes looked at him 
without fear, despite the pallor of face and lips. 
The dim light accentuated her whiteness, as 
throat and neck and arms gleamed from out the 
dusky lace of her evening gown. 

The unexpectedness and risk of the situation 
appealed to that bizarre element in her nature, 
unaffected by the passage of years, though toned 
down from youth’s recklessness by exigencies of 
circumstance and surroundings. She was ready 
to listen to any appeal, though perfectly con- 
scious of its uselessness. The man, on the other 
band, felt his courage evaporating before that 
steady glance, that frigid dignity. The words 
that had been thronging to his lips were sud- 
denly arrested, but the eyes meeting in mute 
challenge said much. 

“Are you going to explain your reason for this 
intrusion?” asked that clear, ringing voice, whose 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


263 


modulated tones had once held all life’s music 
for his ears. 

“Reason!” he cried, impetuously. “God 
knows 1 have' enough, or 1 wouldn’t have come 
here now, Peg. AVhy didn’t you answer my 
letter as I begged?” 

“What was the use?” she said, coldly. “The 
past is over and done with— buried in its grave 
of misery. Do you think 1 would stir a linger 
to open that grave — now 9 1 have little to thank 

you for, Denis Morrison; but, at least, I can 
prevent you from repeating that mistake.” 

“1 asked you to let mo repair it.” 

The white face flushed with a sudden hot glow. 

“Yes!” she said, in a stifled voice, broken and 
jarred, like strings too roughly handled; “you 
dared do that. And you failed to read my an- 
swer in silence.” 

“I wanted a reason. 1 could, not believe you 
had changed so utterly. W e are both free now. 
I told you the truth when I said I had never for- 
gotten you. I never have. A man may have a 
hundred fancies in his life. He loves once. 1 
always loved you, even when I — ” 

“When you did your best to ruin my whole 
life!” she interposed. “Even when you took 
advantage of ignorance and recklessness, and 
fanned the flame of my mad love for you by 
every art a man possesses. And you had every- 
thing to help you! Hereditary impulses, my 
defenseless youth, the utter loneliness and un- 
protectedness of my life. God forgive you, 
Denis! You knew what you were doing. 1 


254 PEG, THE RAKE. 

did not. I neither thought nor cared. For 
your sake I made a moral shipwreck of that 
life, and it left me the woman I have become. ’ ’ 

“The past is dead, Peg. You said so your- 
self. Don’t rake up these memories. I was a 
bad fellow, 1 know; but think of my bringing 
up, my position, the daily humiliations that were 
my lot, the temptations I met with — and theu — 
oh, how I loved you. Peg ! God ! how 1 loved 
you ! Even now, when 1 think of it, 1 could do 
the same again for a smile or a word. And you 
gave more than that — Peg. Your love was as 
generous as your nature. Surely you can’t have 
altered so much. Something of that girl must 
linger in your heart, even as something of the 
boy who worshiped you lingers in mine. Our 
pulses haven’t grown chill yet; your eyes are 
still eloquent for me. Oh, Peg, come back! 
Don’t do this rash thing I I can give you wealth 
now. 1 am no longer a penniless adventurer. 
The world is wide, we can make our home vv^here . 
we will. Life needn’t cheat us out of happi- 
ness. Some good years are still left. We can 
reconquer our past joys and renew them. We — ’ ’ 

“Yeper.'” 

Brief words sometimes^ tell a long history. 
That one word told revelation, confession, de- 
spair, She said no more, only sank slowly down 
on the low cane chair beside her, and covered 
her face from sight with shuddering arms on 
which the diamonds sparkled mockingly, like 
evil eyes rejoicing over human woe. 

He looked at her. - 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


255 


A woman whose best years were spent and 
over; a woman for whom life held no single 
illusion, who had tasted the fruits of the Tree 
of Knowledge even as he himself had done — 
more sparingly, perhaps, but with equal avidity, 
and to whom the knowledge thus acquired was 
as distasteful now as it had been desirable — 
once. 

“Do you mean that?” he asked, hoarsely. 
“Once before you sent me from you — sent me 
rolling down the hill of evil at the devil’s own 
pace. You know what Irish recklessness is, 
Peg; we both had a fair share of it in those 
days, I think. I have spent my life in unsatis- 
fied longing; no woman but you has ever con- 
tented me. I come to 3^ou to-night wasted with 
the famine of long desire. I come to you with 
a right which you must acknowledge, the right 
which says, ‘Remember.’ ” 

The passionate appeal of his glance swept over 
her bent head, but the motionless figure made no 
sign. He came nearer and knelt at her side. 

“Listen~it is for the last time. If I leave you 
to-night it is to go to worse than death, l.’ve 
been driven to you despite my efforts, despite 
myself. Peg. Why are you going to marry this 
man? He is not a good man, though, God 
knows, I’d be the last to throw stones at any 
one. He’s only giving you the dregs of a self- 
ish sensualist’s life. I can offer you something 
better than thatP^ 

She lifted her head. 

“Can yCTu offer me an honorable name?” she 


256 PEG, THE RAKE. 

said. “Can you offer me one pure, good feeling 
for which I loved you once?” 

A sullen flush rose to his brow. 

“No,” he said; “but such as I am you made 
me.” 

“And such as I am you made me! If 1 am 
content to accept the. dregs of this man’s life, I, 
at least, know the worthlessness of what I give 
in exchange.” 

“Is that your final answer?” 

“It is; I wonder you dared to ask another.” 

Their eyes met with a flash of defiance. It 
was mortal combat between two natures alike in 
their verj’ dissimilarity. Hot youth spoke out 
again, and all the intervening years were swept 
aside, as a storm - blast rents an insufficient 
barrier. 

They had loved to madness once; such love 
cannot wake again for any. prayer. What a 
woman suffers at a man’s hands he dimly rec- 
ognizes in such a moment as this ! 

Slowly Denis Morrison rose to his feet. ITis 
last hope was vanishing, going down, down, 
down into deep waters, from whence resurrec- 
tion was impossible. He had thought to find 
some trace of the girl in the woman to whom he 
had appealed; hut there was none, so ho felt, or 
so she chose to make him feel, 

For a nuanent he stood there, and life seemed 
topan.se on 1 then die slowly out of pulse and 
vein, leavin: ; him blind, and 'dumb, and deaf. 
Then sharp pain stirred his heart, and the past 
and the present turned their veiled faces toward 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


257 


him. ^■‘What have you made of us, you two 
mad, human things?” they seemed to ask; and 
the dreary silence echoed the mocking laugh 
that was their only answer. 

The cold night wind blew in through the open- 
ing window, stirring the laces of the woman’s 
dress, and chilling with damp breath her bare 
arms and throat. 

She raised her head. Her eyes followed the 
vanishing figure, as, with one hand j^esting on 
the stone balustrade, it turned toward her in a 
last appeal. Even in that dim light the eyes 
seemed to burn her with remembered shame, 
and sorrow, and sweetness, all commingled in 
one magic memrry. 

She did not move. Not the tremor of an eye- 
lash, or the flutter of uplifted hand signaled him 
to linger or delay. 

Love was dead. 

Into the cold darkness of the dying night he 
took it forth, to bury it where youth and hope 
and all fair things of life were buried too. 

Strained to a certain point feeling becomes 
numbness. A passive quiescence takes the place 
of pain, and torture spends itself in faint recur- 
rent throbs instead of useless agony. 

Miss Em rose to her feet as the snap of the 
window proclaimed itself closed. The fire had 
sunk to a heap of gray ashes, the candles were 
flickering in their sockets. A white, haggard 
face looked at her from the mirror, the eyes 
darkly circled, the lips closed in a hard line. 


258 


PEG, THE RAKE 


“What a face to greet one’s bridal morn!” she 
thought. 

With one long shuddering sigh she took in 
every detail of herself. Then a swift breath ex- 
tinguished the candle’s flickering light, and in 
the darkness of the room came only the sound of 
a woman’s broken sobs. 

The day broke rosy and fair, and the warm 
sunlight stole into the chamber and flickered to 
and fro, playing hide and seek with the jewels 
on bare arms, and kissing the dead whiteness of 
a face lhat sleep at last had tranquilized. 

With a sudden start the sleeper woke and 
gazed with wonder at her strange appearance. 

She had thrown herself dressed as she was on 
the bed, and had fallen asleep in sheer weariness. 

She rose now, and with hurried fingers re- 
moved her diamonds and unlaced her dress, and 
went through all the old hateful routine which 
night and morn render compulsory for civilized 
beings, be they ever so weary, or ever so sad. 

Then she crept back to bed, cold and faint and 
unutterably wretched, vainly wooing sleep again. 

She watched the light grow brighter at that 
fatal . window, and the glow seemed to scorch 
her brain. The dingy pattern of the carpet, the 
ornaihents on the mantel-shelf, the hundred and 
one commonplace and remembered things that 
were sacred to her own possession seemed to take 
a new aspect and grow vivid in an atmosphere 
of regret. 

Time ticked its slow course from the little 


PEG. THE RAKE. 


259 


china clock, anh every moment brought nearer 
the fatal hour when slie must nerve herself to 
dress and smile and play her part in the dreary 
pageant of the day. 

“Why have I done this?” she asked herself. 
“I had grown used to my life. Better have left 
it as it was, not taken a new burden by way of 
lightening the old. But all my days seem to 
have been spent in committing mistakes and re- 
gretting them too late. I can’t escape now. 
What a ghastly mockery it would have been to 
do what he prayed last night; to try to retrieve 
the youth he murdered, to let him forever con- 
trast the woman in her faded bloom with the 
girl whose love he so little valued! Oh! how I 
remember it all : that is the worst of women, or 
such a woman as I am. I canH forget; I re- 
member his words, his kisses, -the very way he 
used to look at me across a room ; the mad wild 
things he would do and say. And after all what 
does it come to? What- does any man’s love 
ever come to when the novelty has worn off? 
Satiety, v/eariness, regret! Oh! how could he 
have dared to come to me last night ; it was a 
worse insult even than — ” 

Her thoughts broke off abruptly. “I hope I 
shall never see him again. I thought I had out- 
lived bis power to hurt me Will he go 

away again? He did not say. Oh! he must, 
he must. It is too horrible that he should be 
here, at my gates almost, waiting to see me that 
old man’s wife. Oh! I think I’ve been mad. 
God is very cruel to me. He doesn’t let me feel 


260 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


old! He doesn’t put chill calm into my soul and 
let me take life easily as others do. It’s always 
been like this to me. I mean to do right, but 
then, somehow, the right turns out to be al^ 
wrong. They say nothing is so bad but that it 
can be worse. I wonder if anything, anything 
could be worse to me than what I am doing? I 
can’t imagine it — now.” 

She closed her eyes and lay there very quiet. 

“The pain is lulling at last,” she murmured 
faintly. “It seems only like a bad dream. I— I 
haven’t prayed for a long, long time, but I could 
pray now with all my soul that God would let 
me get through this day as if last night had 
never been. Oh ! how shall I ever face the cruel 
light — the cruel eyes of women? Among them 
aU is there one who would be sorry if she knew 
me as I am, as I know myself, as — to my last- 
ing misery — that one man knows me?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


261 


CHAPTER XXIL 

AFTERWARD. 

‘‘Shure, ’twas an illigant ceremony intirely, ' 
and went off beautiful,” said Quinlan, wiping 
her eyes with a corner cf her muslin apron and . 
appealing to Miss Bedelia as a “kindred soul” 
after the excitement of the day. “And Miss 
Peg, the saints presarve her, that composed and 
grand-looking, not the highest in tne land could 
bate her an’ they tried. Yet she was feelin’ it 
all the time. I saw the lips of her quiver when 
they was speechifying at the breakfast, and only 
for the high spirit that was always in her she’d 
have let the tears rowl down her face, instead 
of houlding thim back in thim beautiful eyes. 
Arrah! wisha, wisha! Miss O’Hara, ’tis a sorry 
dayvfor me to be losin’ the likes o’ her.” 

“Perhaps she’ll engage you at the castle, Quin- 
lan,” said Miss Bedelia. “You know ’twas an 
old promise as a girl that whenever she married 
you should go to her new home.” 


262 PEG, THE RAKE: 

“Do ye think that I’m after forgetting that, 
Miss O’Hara, ma’am? Faith, an it’s kept the 
heart, o’ me from brakin’ outright intirely, in- 
tirely, all this holy and blessed day. And yet 
the master here has need o’ me. ’Twill be fairly 
starved he’ll be after all this to make up for the 
extravagance, and ivery crust and candle-end 
counted. Faith, ’tis a taste of purgatory we 
get here whin Miss Peg, bless her, is out of 
the way.” 

Miss Bedel ia smiled grimly. Mrs, O’Hara 
was no favorite of hers, and she was prepared to 
believe anything that was ill of her. Besides, 
Quinlan had the privileges of an old servant and 
an Irish servant to boot, and there was nothing 
derogatory in a gossip with her. 

The conversation was taking place in Miss 
Bedelia’s room, whither she had inveigled 
Quinlan on the plea of needing her assistance 
in packing. 

She was always eager to “shake off the dust” 
of Carrig-duve from her shoes, and never b}^ any 
chance stayed a day longer than was absolutely 
necessary. 

“It was a sorry day for the family when my 
brother married an Englishwoman,” she re- 
marked at last. “I have often wondered why 
my niece didn’t marry long ago, if only to es- 
cape from here. It certainly was not from any 
want of offers.” 

“Offers, indeed! Why, ’twas the pick of the 
county Miss Peg had to choose a husband from. 
And ’tis a qaare choice she's made, after all,” 


TEG, THE RAKE. 


263 


she added regretfully. “Not but what the posi- 
tion is foine enough, though they do say Sir 
Jasper’s none so well off as he’d make folks 
believe.” 

Miss Bedel ia started. “Is that true, Quinlan? 
I always understood he was so wealthy.” 

“ ma’am, that’s thrue for ye. But I’ve 
heard tell o’ mortgages and sich like ; and you 
know yerself, Miss O’Hara dear, that the land 
isn’t worth a quarter what it was, even tin years 
ago. And, shure, Sir Jasper’s not the gintle- 
man to be denyin’ himself anything he’s a 
mind for. Och! glory be to God, poor Ire- 
land’s in a moighty quare way inti rely, in- 
tirely, and ’tis the landed gintry know where 
the shoe pinches!” 

Miss Bedelia still looked thoughtful. The 
doubt thrown out by Quinlan’s words was 
likely to be a pebble of uneasiness in the shoe 
of that future comfort she had promised herself. 
She had looked upon Miss Em’s future as secure 
at last, and silenced a little conscience prick of 
her own with the inward assurance 1 hat her 
money would never be needed noiv. However, 
after a few moments’ consideration she decided 
that all this could only be village gossip, and 
had probably no real foundation. Emilia surely 
knew ' what she was about, and 'would have 
been the last woman in the world to marry 
without assuring herself she had all she bar- 
gained for. 

She changed the subject abruptly, and set 
Quinlan off on a fresh recital of the sins and 


264 


PEG, THE RAKE 


shortcomings of Mrs. O’Hara, while she folded 
skirts, and shook out laces, and arranged all 
Miss Bedelia’s belongings with a view to getting 
the maximum* of articles into the minimum of 
space. 

In the midst of her work Quinlan suddenly 
started. 

“Faith, and I’m jest forgettin’ the very thing 
I promised Miss Peg!” she exclaimed. “Axin’ 
yer pardon, ma’am. Miss O’Hara dear, ye’ll jest 
excuse me for a moment, whilst I give a look 
round her room. She’s that careless, bless her 
sowi, and I tould her I’d be givin’ a squint 
round to see if she’d left anything behind. For 
’tis she knows as well as meself, the pryin’ eyes 
that arc in this house. So I’ll jest — arrah 
whist! .... Was that her door I’m after 
bearin’?” 

She went eagerly to the door of Miss Bedelia’s 
room and looked out. A moment after she turned 
round. 

“Well, ma’am, it’s a quare thing,” she said 
slowly, “but I’d be sworn I saw the tail of a 
gown whiskin’ round the corner this minnit, 
and, more beyant, I know vjhose gown it was. 
Now what had the mistress to do pryin’ into 
Miss Peg’s room at all, tell me that?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Miss Be- 
delia. “But there’s nothing wonderful in it, 
Quinlan; maybe she only wanted to see that 
Emilia hadn’t forgotten anything.” 

Quinlan shook her head disapprovingly. “No, 
ma’am. She’s after no good, and why did she 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


265 


slink away like that as if she’d been caught 
thavin’ or worse? I’ll jest go' and look for 
meself if the drawers is locked and her 
boxes sthropped, as I promised. If there’s 
one left open divil a bit but 1 know who’s 
been at it.” 

She left, and Miss Bedelia followed her. 

Tidiness was never Miss Em’s strong point, 
and the aspect of her room on this eventful occa- 
sion was a few degrees more chaotic than usual. 
Quinlan cast sharp ^glances about her as she 
moved td and fro gathering up various articles 
of apparel, and endeavoring to “straighten” the 
disordered apartment. The window was open, 
and Miss Bedelia approached it, and stood for a 
few seconds looking out at the garden below, and 
the waving boughs of the great elm where they 
rustled against the low stone balustrade of the 
little balcony. The air was soft and springlike, 
the branches as they swayed to and fro almost 
touched the window by which she stood. Her 
ej^es carelessly roving over the scene were 
suddenly conscious of a momentary arrest — 
something slight and trivial, and yet des- 
tined to haunt her with a pertinacity almost 
i rritating. 

“Come here, Quinlan,” she said at last. 

The old woman approached and stood by her 
side, as if waiting for explanation of the sum- 
mons. 

‘ ‘ Look there, ’ ’ Miss Bedelia continued present- 
ly; “tell me — do you notice anything 
about that tree?” 


266 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Quinlan’s eyes followed the direction of 
the pointing hand, but the face spoke no sur- 
prise. 

“Shure, ’tis much as it iver was, a bit near 
the window, but ’twas a fancy of Miss Peg’s to 
have it left so; she’d niver have a twig of it 
touched.” 

“I — I don’t mean about it being so 
near, though it is very near; why, any one 
could climb up to the balcony from that 
bough.” 

“Ah! glory be to Grod, and what for should 
they be doin’ that, ma’am? Shure, ’tis a quare 
fancy you’ve got in your head. There’s^ bolts 
and bars and shutters to the window if it’s 
Fenians or burglars ye’re thinkin’ of; though 
sorra a one av thim gentry would iver come 
masqueradin’ round Carrig-duve. ’Tisn’t much 
here that’s waitin’ to timpt them, and well they 
knows it.” 

“But look at the bough, Quinlan,” persisted 
the old lady; “don’t you see it’s all bent and 
crushed; and see there, on the balcony, those 
broken twigs ! Doesn’t it look as if some one 
had climbed up, and — ” 

“Arrah! naubbeen bouraghi* W"hat will ye 
be saying next, ma’am?” scoffed Quinlan, as 
she stepped forward and peered about, But the 
indifference of the voice was belied by the anx- 
ious look in her eyes. “Shure, ’tis jest a bit o’ 
a breeze that’s broken thim dry twigs. Come in 


* “ Don’t be bothering me. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


267 


MOW out o’ the cold, ma’am,” she added hastily; 
“for I’ll be lockin’ up here while ’tis daylight. 
And for goodness’ sake. Miss O’Hara, me dear, 
don’t be after sayin’ sich things downstairs; for 
’tis as narvous they are, mistress and the master 
too, as iver childer could be. Why, since Biddy 
Lehane came here full o’ the Headless Coach be- 
ing seen again, not a sowl in the house will look 
out of a window after dusk, an’ the mistress her- 
self worse than any o’ thim— an onaisy con- 
science, I’m thinking; and sorra a wonder, if 
&he’s throubled in mind after all the evil she’s 
worked in this house.” 

Her tongue rattled on, and her busy fingers 
closed and bolted the window, while still the 
swaying boughs moved softly to and fro, and 
the young fresh green of the leaves stood out in 
faint relief against the pale primrose of the 
sky. 

Miss Bedelia’s face still wore that anxious ex- 
pression, but she said no more. 

Meanwhile Quinlan bustled about, replacing 
things in drawers, smoothing down the bed, and 
setting the chairs straight in their accustomed 
places. “God bless and make her happy, ” she 
murmured at last, as she rested from her labors, 
and looked with brimming eyes at the familiar 
room. “ ’Tis sad I am at heart this day, and 
sorely I’ll miss her. Haven’t 1 had care o’ her 
from the hour she was born, the loveliest babe 
as iver drew the breath o’ life, and the sweetest 
child and the merriest girl that iver danced her- 
self into fun and mischief from sheer love o’ 


268 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


divilry? Och! ’twas the fine spirit she had, 
the saints presarve her; and didn’t I tell her luck 
was changin’ and the marriage card turnin’ up 
too that very night as she was spakin’ of going 
to Dublin? Faith, Miss O’Hara, ’twas a thrue 
prophet I was that time.” 

“Were you fortune - telling again, Quinlan? 
You were always great at the cards. You’d 
more signs and meanings than any one I 
ever met. And so you told Emilia her for- 
tune?” 

“Ah! thrue for you, I did that. And it’s 
come thrue, ivery blessed word av it.” 

“I should rest content then,*’ said Miss Be- 
delia, gravely, “and not ask any more of Fate 
or the future. ’ ’ 

“Maybe I won’t. But marriage is a quare 
thing intirely, and you can’t be sure how ’twill 
turn out. ’Tis all very well in story-books, but 
shure they jest lave the folk at the church door, 
whin ’tis after their own door closes on them 
that the rale throubles begin. And now. Miss 
O’Hara, dear, savin’ your presence. I’ll be after 
shuttin’ up this apartment for good an’ al', 
seein’ things is straight, and the trunks 
safely locked. They’re to go to the castle 
next week.” 

She paused and looked scrutinizingly round 
the room once more. “What made the mistress 
come pry in’ about here?” she muttered. “I’d 
give a good dale to Imow. Well, ’tisn’t much 
she’d have the chance of discovering Miss 

Peg was a mighty good hand at kapin^ her 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


269 


own secrets, and she’s safe now, glory be to 
God!” 

Safe ! If Quinlan had possessed a little more 
worldly knowledge she would have known that 
a woman whose life holds a secret is never safe, 
and can never be sure but that some lurking foe 
lies in ambush to spring upon her with betrayal 
or accusation, even when she deems herself most 
secure ! 


270 - 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

FEELING THE GROUND. 

It was a cold, wet evening when, a fortnight 
later, the lady of Castle Lustrell drove up to her 
new home. 

The promise of spring had not been kept, and 
the flowers and leafage looked shrunk and sod- 
den as the carriage made its way up the avenue. 
Its two occupants looked silently out at either 
window, each mind busy with its ov/n reflec- 
tions. Judging from the expression of the two 
faces, it might be supposed that the honeymoon 
had'?io^ been a success. They looked bored and 
discontented, and unutterably weary. The dis- 
piriting effects of the long journey and the pres- 
ent aspect of Nature were not conducive to any 
display of cheerfulness; and Miss Em, as she 
gazed at the brooding clouds, massed heavily 
over the blood-red gleam in the west, felt as if 
the ominous face of earth and sky was but the 
reflection of her own forebodings. 

The carriage stopped at the entrance ; a glow 
of light and warmth shone from out the opening 
door, revealing the hall with its antique furniture 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


271 


and faded tapestry, and the dull gold of a pict- 
ure-frame above the great fireplace. 

The old butler, older far than his master, stood 
bowing respectful welcome to the travelers. A 
few steps beyond him Molly was waiting, her 
bright young beauty shining royally in the warm 
glow, her eyes eager and fond as they rested on 
the two weary faces. 

“There, there, child, don’t fuss,” muttered her 
father, impatiently, as she sprang forward and 
threw her arms round his neck. “I’m tired to 
death and half frozen. Where’s Bates?” and he 
looked round petulantly for his valet. “I’ll go 
to my room at once. Dinner at half-past seven, 
I suppose, as usual, Molly?” 

“Yes, papa,” said Molly, who had. turned to 
greet her stepmother, and was wondering a little 
at the intense fervor of the quiet embrace which 
had answered her welcome. 

Sir Jasper moved away and left them both 
standing by the fire. ^ 

“You’ll have some tea, won’t you?” asked 
Molly.; “I thought you’d like it better than any- 
thing else. How pale you look, dear, and so 
tired ! Sit down here, and let me take off your 
cloak.” 

Her deft fingers removed the traveling wraps, 
and with a sigh of relief Miss Em sank into the 
comfortable chair by the great open fireplace and 
glanced round at the preparations for her com- 
fort which the girl had so lovingly made. 

She took off her gloves and veil, and pushed the 
close felt hat a little off her head, as if its weight 


272 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


troubled her. Molly thought she looked very ill 
and strangely old, but she said nothing, only 
busied herself with the tea- that had just been 
brought in by the old butler. 

Miss Em drank a cup, and it seemed to revive 
her. A faint glow came into 'her pale cheeks, 
and the tired, absent look was replaced by one 
of interest. 

“I am glad to be home,” she said. “It is 
weary work traveling, especially at this time of 
year. And it was awful at Killarney — rain, 
rain, rain, one incessant downpour! But now 
tell me all about yourself, Molly. What have 
you been doing? Was it very dull? And how 
are things and people in general? It seems an 
age since I left.” 

That doesn’t sound as if she were very happy, ’ ’ 
thought the girl ; but she ouly knelt down on the 
velvet footstool at Miss Em’s feet and chatted 
away in her old merry fashion, telling her of the 
hundred and one trivialities of Irish village life, 
which seem so important or entertaining to Irish 
people. 

“Have you seen any one from Carrig-duve?” 
i nquired Miss Em, after some ten minutes’ gossip 
of this nature. 

“No; but 1 believe they are quite well. The 
house-party left the day after the wedding, and, 
I heard, m st of the servants.” 

“That T can quite believe; 1 expected the es- 
tablishment would be reduced to its ordinary 
limits as soon as my back was turned.” 

“I hope you will find your rooms as you 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


273 


like them,” continued the girl presently. “1 
could not do much. Everything is very old- 
fashioned, just as they were in mj^ mother and 
grandmother’s time, but at least they’re com- 
fortable.” 

“My dear, whatever they are, 1 am not likely 
to find fault with them,” said Miss Em; “Car- 
rig-duve has not made me ultra- fastidious.” 

“Are you going to have a maid?” inquired 
Molly. “I have never required one; papa said 
it was nonsense, and one of the girls here is very 
handy and does any little thing 1 want. But 
you, perhaps — ” 

“If I have any one, I should like my old serv- 
ant Quinlan,” said her stepmother. “But I’m 
not very anxious about one; they’re generally 
more bother than they’re worth. Of course if 
we entertain a great deal or go out much, I should 
like somebody to assist me in dressing, and to re- 
arrange gowns and do my hair. But at present 
I shall do very weU without one.” 

“We haven’t a very large establishment,” 
continued Molly; “indeed, of late, papa has been 
cutting down everything in the oddest way.. The 
servants declare they can’t manage to keep the 
house as it ought to be kept; and when I say 
that to my father, he only answers, ‘They must 
do the best they can.’ But things will be differ- 
ent now,” she added, more cheerfully. “I’m 
.‘;ure you’ll manage much better than I could ever 
do. To tell you the truth, I hate housekeeping. 

I like books and music, and walks and rides and 
croquet, and all that sort of thing ; but manag- 


274 


PEG, THE RAK^l. 


ing servants and regulating household expenses 
and ordering dinners, I positively hate!’* 

Miss Em looked somewhat wistfully at the 
bright face. “You needn’t do it any longer, 
dear, unless you choose,” she said; “though it 
is good practice. You may be having a house 
of your own some day, and you’ll be none the 
worse for understanding the details of manage- 
ment.” 

Molly flushed to the roots of her pretty hair. 
“Shall we go upstairs now?” she asked, ignor- 
ing the insinuation in Miss Em’s speech. “I 
told Dwyer — the girl I was speaking of — to takg 
your dressing-bag to your room, and that you 
would tell her what trunk you wished opened. 
All your boxes have been sent from Carrig-duve, 
and thej^ are in the little ante-room cpouing out 
of your dressing-room, so you can soon have 
them unpacked. ’ ’ 

Miss Em rose, and they left the hall and went 
up the broad oak staircase together. 

The castle was very old, and for long years 
had been falling into neglect, Only a few ot 
the rooms were ever used, the others had been 
closed to daylight and left to the tender mercies 
of damp and dust. The hall was very spacious, 
and served the purposes of general sitting-room 
and drawing-room. The dining-room was a long 
lofty chamber with a paneled ceiling, from which 
hung two massive chandeliers, capable of hold- 
ing fifty candles each. It was lighted by three 
large windows deeply set, and showing views of 
the park and a glimpse of the sea. The large 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


275 


drawing-room was on the opposite side, with 
windows opening on the terrace. Miss Em had 
never seen it, nor had it been opened for use in 
her memory at all. 

The suite of rooms to which Molly conducted 
her were over this drawing-room and on the 
same side of the house. They consisted of bed- 
room, dressing-room, and boudoir, all opening one 
into the other, and the small ante-room of which 
Molly had spoken. The dressing-room which they 
entered first was larga.and lofty, with deep bay 
windows. The furniture was old and somber, 
but rich of its kind, and harmonized well with 
the oak-paneled walls and vast fireplace; the 
windows were hung with rich old damask; the 
great dressing-table which stood between them 
was a wonder of carving, and the large old-fash- 
ioned sofa and chairs were covered in chintz and 
piled with soft cushions. 

The glow of the firelight made cheerful reflec- 
tions in the polished woodwork and tall mirrors, 
and gave the room an air of comfort and homeli- 
ness. 

Through the open doorway the adjoining bed- 
chamber was visible, furnished in a similar style, 
but with the addition of an immense four-post 
bedstead draped in silk damask. 

The boudoir was smaller, and furnished in a 
lighter and more cheerful style. The window 
seats were padded and cushioned; a carved oak 
writing-table and bookcase, ebony consoles bear- 
ing quaint china, folding screens, and quaint 
chairs of all shapes and sizes, distinguished this 


276 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


room ; and Molly had filled every nook and cor- 
ner with flowers and plants, and rearranged the 
prints and pictures and innumerable ornaments 
with some sense of artistic fitness that the eyes * 
of the new Lady Lustrell were quick to recog- 
nize and appreciate. 

“Everything is charming,” she said, looking 
from one to the other of the open doors with their 
glimpses of comfortable interiors, “lam so glad 
there is nothing modern here; 1 detest up-to- 
date furniture and decorations.” 

“Do you?” said Molly, opening wide her pretty 
eyes. “Oh, 1 love them; they are so bright and 
artistic and fanciful.” 

“Yes, that I grant,” said Miss Em, with fine 
contempt; “fanciful enough and capable of last- 
ing some half-dozen years, if cared for. Why, 
such furniture as this lasts for generations^and 
is as good at the end as at the beginning. Be- 
sides, it has such a respectable old-world flavor 
about it,” she added, laughing. “Your modern 
millionaire can’t compete with that. His sur- 
roundings, like himself, bear the stamp of nou- 
veau riche on everything.” 

“Well, I’m very glad you are pleased,” said 
Molly. “I was so thankful Aunt Sabina left all 
the arranging to me. She took herself off a week 
ago, and then we, began work on these rooms. ’ ’ 

“You have done wonders,” Miss Em said, 
dropping a kiss on the bright, upturned face. 
“But now I am going to be rude enough to turn 
you out, for 1 want a rest before I dress for din- 
ner. Tell Dwyer that the long leather trunk 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


277 


holds my evening dresses, and 1 will wear the 
black velvet to-night.” 

Molly nodded, and drew the big cushioned sofa 
a little nearer the fire. ‘ ‘ There, ’ ’ she said, ‘ ‘ have 
a good rest. You needn’t dress for an hour yet; 
and don’t make a grand toilette^ we’re quite 
alone, you know.” 

“Your aunt isn’t coming back yet?” asked 
Miss Em, somewhat anxiously. 

“No; not for ages,” answered Molly. “She 
has gone to live with a widowed cousin at Balh - 
mena. The Lord be thanked for all His mercies ! ’ ’ 
she added, piously, as she closed the door behind 
her. 

Left alone, Miss Em threw herself wearily 
on the big soft couch, and closed her eyes with 
a sigh of relief. 

“So it’s all over, at last!” she thought, “and 
now, I suppose, for the tag of war. 1 want the 
full worth of my bargain, and I mean to be the 
sole ruler here to begin with. Thank goodness 
that odious Sabina has had the discretion to take 
herself off. It would have been impossible for 
the two of us to live here. Molly is pliant and 
sweet enough ; besides, 1 am fond of her, fonder 
than I ever imagined 1 could be of any one of 
my own sex. Between us we will wake the old 
castle up again, whether Sir Jasper likes it or 
not. I must have the best people here, and they 
must talk of me as of a person of importance — 
the person in the county, in fact. Of course, a 
series of dinners must open the campaign. It is 
an odd thing that one can do nothing to acquire 


278 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


popularity or reward distinction, except through 
the medium of eating and drinking. However, 
it is safer to begin on old lines before branchiug 
off into new ones. I intend to do both. Hence- 
forth I shall live for society, and popularity, and 
the world. It will be fatiguing, I make no doubt, 
but it will keep me well employed, and form my 
best vengeance for slights and snubs in the past. ’ ’ 

She opened her eyes again, and took a leisurely 
and more complete survey of her surroundings. 
“Yes, these rooms will do very well,” she re- 
flected; “they suit the place and they suit me. 
Rose hued draperies and fanciful furnishing 
^s^ould be all very well for a bride of eighteen, 
but I prefer something solid and good. Every- 
thing here speaks of the past, a past with which 
I have nothing to do, but whose old-world flavor 
I like. I wonder what I shall have to do to the 
state drawing-room; I must see that to-morrow. 
The library and dining-room I know; 1 think 
they are all right.” 

Gradually her eyes closed, the warmth and 
stillness and perfume of flowers lulled her senses 
and soothed her tired nerves, peace stole softly 
over her wandering fancies, and she lost all 
memory of troubles, present or to come, in the 
deep trance of slumber. 


END OF PART ONE. 


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till life lets go. It is kind 
to the living tissue. 


PEG, THE RAKE 


BY 

“RITA” 


A.uthor of “ Dame Dvrden,” “ S/icba,” “ Countess Phara- 
m'ond,” *^The Ending of My Day,^’ etc., etc. 


^ yf^AA , '1^) ‘ }f ' ^ 


nv TWO PARTS— PART TITO 


>> 

• 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1895, by 
PRTBH FRNELON COLLIKR 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington 





that ends well; all who have Coughs, 
Colds and Throat Troubles are made 
well by 


of Cod-liver Oil, with hypophosphites 
of lime and Soda. When lungs are 
affected Scott’s Emulsion, if taken in 
time, prevents consumption. Phy- 
sicians^ the world over, endorse it. 

The consumption ger^u takes root and 
grows when the hcdy is weak and 
emaciated. The germ passes off when 
the body is strong. 


PEG, THE RAKE 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE FIRST. CLOUD. 

A CLOCK softly chiming the hour of seven 
startled the sleeper at last. She sprang up for a 
. ^ment, gazed in bewilderment at the strange 

- , \ “I — 1 was dreaming I was back at Carrig- 
: ’ she said as she rose. “Seven o’clock, 

tin ' dine at half-past ! Gracious, how could 
j. . t so long, and how shall 1 ever man- 

age Ircc, In half an hour?” 

Sh. • -iet' 'nto the adjoining room. The fire 
was bu. ; ightly, and a number of wax 
candles hat ’ I^hted in the china candelabra 
each side Oi. i ’ • ^ing-table. 

The black vd' ' ^ss lay on a couch at the 
foot of the bea, ‘ jewel-case stood on a 
small table beside ■< . 

She stood for a moment silently surveying 
herself ere she took off her traveling dress and 
opened her dressing bag. 


( 279 ) 


280 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“1 won’t risk a maid’s inquisitive eyes — 
she said. “There’ll be talk enough in the serv- 
ants’ hall presently. I mustn’t betray my petit s 
secrets.” 

When she rang the bell for Dwyer’s assistance 
with her dress, the girl thought she had never 
seen a “finer looking lady” than the new mis- 
tress of the castle. Sleep had given color to her 
cheeks and light to her eyes, and her own ex- 
perience of ‘judicious aids” had worked won- 
ders. The rich black velvet showed off her 
white throat and armsr to perfection, and the 
diamonds and emer^ds of Miss Bedelia’s wed- 
ding gifts still further enhanced her striking 
appearance. 

“Not a day over thirty- five, and good at that!” 
she said to herself triumphantly. “I see I want 
rich and good materials now; muslins and silks 
and laces won’t do any longer — except as ac- 
cessories.” 

She took her gloves and handkerchief from the 
girl’s hands, and swept downstairs just ks the 
second bell had ceased ringing. 

Sir Jasper and Molly were standing by the 
great fireplace in the hall. She came slowly 
down the wide shallow stairs, the soft rich folds 
of velvet trailing behind her beautiful figure, 
and the emeralds and diamonds gleaming on 
throat and arms. Involuntarily her eyes rested 
on her husband’s face as he looked up and 
watched her approach. Something in it— a new 
expression— an expression that had not been 
there when he left her two hours before — caught 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


281 


her ever quick glance — and for a second’s space 
turned her cold and sick with sudden appre- 
hension. 

“He has learned — something.'^ So the fear 
translated itself, and the blood grew cold in her 
veins, even while the instinctive courage of her 
nature and her race set every nerve in steely de- 
fiance against the folly of self- betrayal. 

Not a tremor in face or lips or voice gave any 
sign that she had noticed what Sir Jasper had 
been equally undonscious of betraying; and yet 
they met with so wide a gulf of difference be- 
tween their parting two hours previously and 
that present meeting that no power or will of 
either could ever bridge it over. 

Sir Jasper offered his arm, and Molly followed 
them both into the dining-room. She was nerv- 
ous as to the dinner, for it was her first attempt 
at ordering one on her own responsibility, and 
this nervousness kept her from remarking the 
constraint of her two companions, or the strange 
manner in which from time to time her father 
eyed his wife. 

The fiush on Miss Em’s cheek grew deeper; 
her eyes had a wild brilliance that betokened in- 
tense mental excitement. She ate scarcely any- 
thing, but her champagne glass was filled rather 
oftener than was prudent, and she rattled on 
about a hundred different subjects without wait- 
ing for response, or ever seeming to heed the fact 
of Sir Jasper’s silence. The change in her from 
the tired, weary, heavy-eyed, haggard woman of 
two hours before astonished Molly, who was in- 


282 


- PEG, THE RAKE. 


nocent as yet of the magic powers of rouge and 
hlanc deperle and kohl judiciously applied. 

She had always admired Miss Em; and she 
admired her more than ever to-night, as the meal 
drew to a close and she felt it had been a success 
in every way; any little omissions or drawback 
passing unnoticed while Lady LustrelPs sallies 
and anecdotes were fxashing merrily round the 
board. 

“ Was it all right?” she ask^ anxiously after 
they had gone back to the hall and seated them- 
selves on either side the bright and welcome 
wood fire. 

Miss Em took up a hand-screen and held it 
between her face and the glowing flames. “Was 
what all right, dear?” she asked somewhat 
absently. 

“The dinner,” answered Molly. 

“Oh, charming — perfect,” returned her step- 
mother vaguely. “Ugh! what a storm!” she 
added, lifting her head as if listening to tke 
fierce blasts of wind and torrents of rain. 

“Yes; and we always hear it so plainly,” said 
Molly. “The wind howls round this old castle 
like a legion of fiends.” 

Miss Em shivered. “That’s one of the ad- 
vantages of a fine situation,” she said. “At 
Carrig-duve we are quite sheltered, but then it 
is so shut in.” 

“Do you think you will be happy here?” asked 
Molly suddenly, as she slipped down on the rug 
beside her and leaned her head caressingly 
against her shoulder. “I hope so!” . 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


283 


“Happy!” exclaimed ' Miss Em involuntarily. 
“As if — Yes, of course I shall,” she added 
with a little forced laugh; “I expect to have 
plenty of enjoyment out of life still. We’ll 
wake them all up, Molly. The castle must re- 
gain its old prestige — music, dancing, laughter, 
riot shall ring out through these old rooms once 
more. Young faces, young feet, young voices 
will wake the echoes again. Oh ! I love youth 
about me; 1 have lost mine, but 1 remember it 
so well that for its sake — ” 

A dry significant cough cut short her words. 
She started and glanced round. Sir Jasper was 
standing in the open doorway, his colorless face, 
and steely blue eyes thrown into strong relief by 
the lights from the room he was leaving and the 
hall he was entering — those eyes were fixed on 
Miss Em’s face with the same strange expression 
that had already made her heart thrill with fear. 

Slowly he advanced — his face set as a waxen 
mask. Her mind, already filled with apprehen- 
sion, shrank from giving expression to its fore- 
bodings, but her heart grew heavy as lead, and 
her features refused to answer her effort at 
indifference. 

Molly sprang up from her caressing attitude 
and drew a large low chair forward for her fa- 
ther to sit in. He dropped into it, and spread 
his thin wrinkled hands to the warm blaze. 

“So you love youth and young life about you, 
my lady?” he said significantly. “I should 
have imagined that memories of the past were 
none so pleasant as to raise any desire for their 


284 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


recall. I, for my part, should prefer to forget 
what I have — outlived.’’ 

Molly looked at him, a little surprised at the 
acrimony of his tone and the* curious expression 
of his eyes. His wife let her gaze rest tran- 
quilly on the fire. Her hand trembled slightly 
where it lay against the soft dark velvet of her 
skirt. She lifted it, and slowly and languidly 
moved the screen between her and the cold 
watchful face opposite her own. 

“ We cannot all feel alike, my dear Sir Jas- 
per,” she said lightly. “I was saying that 
young life around one keeps one young, and 
for Molly’s sake — ” 

“Thanks for your consideration,” said Sir 
Jasper, in that cool languid drawl which, to 
any one who knew him, was always a sign of 
intense irritation; “but I do not intend to make 
any difference in the arrangements here, for' — 
Molly’s sake.” 

A hot flush dyed Miss Em’s cheek. Her grAy 
eyes flashed up at that chill brooding face with 
sharp interrogation; some covert meaning was 
in those words, she felt assured, but she was too 
proud to risk a discussion or a scene before Molly. 

“Of course,” she said readily, “I shall be only 
too happy to fall in with your views in every- 
thing, Sir Jasper.” 

“I am glad of. that,” he said curtly. “They 
may not be quite in harmony with your own at 
first, so it is as well we should come to an 
understanding.” 

He turned to his daughter, whose wondering 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


J>85 

eyes were eloquent of surprise. “Molly, my 
dear,” he said, “in my dressing-room you will 
find a letter which I wish you to copy and send 
off for me by first post. It is to your Aunt 
Sabina,” he added significantly, as the girl rose 
at once to obey. 

“Aunt Sabina!” she echoed. Her voice was 
full of dismay, but her father only waved her 
aside, with an impatient frown. 

As the door closed on the girPs white figure. 
Miss Em let the screen faU on her lap and looked 
him straight in the face. 

“Sir Jasper,” she said slowly and distinctly, 
“you will perhaps explain what you mean. In 
what way have I offended you that your manner 
has changed so suddenly, and why do you wish 
to humiliate me before your daughter?” 

He leaned back in the chair, and, joining the 
finger tips of both hands together as if to empha- 
size his speech, surveyed her for a moment with 
avsullen fury that alarmed her. 

“I have — humiliated — you, as you call it,” he 
said slowly, “because you have deceived me. 
Because I have found out your secret ; because, 
had I known you as you are^ I would never have 
committed the folly of marrying you. Last of 
all, because having committed that folly I at 
least intend to suffer as little as possible from its ^ 
results. Are you prepared to listen to my inten- 
tions with respect to our present situation?” 

“I — I do not understand what you mean; how 
you dare — ” 

He held up his hand — that thin, wrinkled, 


286 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


blue- veined hand at which she had once shud- 
dered. “That is a lie,” he said sternly. “But 
I have no wish io u|iveil your past -to-night; 
sufficient that I knoiu it. Sufficient that having 
recognized your deception and its reasons I shall 
allow myself the sweetness of my own revenge 
for my own reasons. Your life here will be 
regulated by my desires— not your own. Your 
position I cannot, unfortunately, gainsay; but I 
shall take care you have but its empty honors — 
no substantial good. I have requested my sister 
to return here at once, and she will resume her 
old place as housekeeper. You are at liberty to 
make any excuse you desire by way of explana- 
tion — want of inclination, dislike to domestic 
matters, any of the pretty little tarra-diddles at 
which you have always been an adept.” 

“I — I will not submit to such treatment!” ex- 
claimed Miss Em furiously as she sprang to her 
feet. “I insist on knowing your reasons.” 

“Pray moderate your voice and your temper, ” 
he answered smilingly. “You have of course 
an alternative if you prefer to rebel instead of 
submit. You can return to Carrig-duve, or live 
apart on an allowance from me. But permit me 
to remind you that the eyes of the whole county 
will be upon you then, and that even after — 
twenty years — a secret may leak out.’” 

She sank into her chair again, white and cold 
and trembling. “Some one has maligned me. 
I — I have so many enemies,” she muttered. 
“But it is unfair to condemn me unheard.” 

“Thank you,” he said icily; “but 1 have not 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


28 ? 

reached my present stage of life without know- 
ing how well a woman can make out her tale if 
it is to serve her interests. Of course, ah this 
comes of my being such a fool as to marry you. 
I can’t imagine what possessed me. 1 sa^v 
through your arts plainly enough. I knew what 
you and Lady Patricia were aiming at, but I 
also knew I was not by any means the wealthy 
‘catch’ you both imagined, and that the bar- 
gain was not so one-sided after all. I am by no 
means sure that I haven’t the best of it, ’ ’ he 
added, surveying her with a cool insolence that 
fired her blood, and woke the fierce O’Hara tem- 
per into one of its fiercest outbursts. But it 
might as well have spent itself on a marble rock 
as on the cool, icy indifference of Sir Jasper. 
Long years of selfishness had molded him into 
a beautiful passivity where women were con- 
cerned. In youth they had suffered enough 
at his hands to bring forth tears and reproaches 
innumerable. Such grief and such reproach 
never touched his conscience; they only affected 
his comfort for the time being, and led him to 
avoid diplomatically any temptation to their 
repetition. 

He was not incapable of kindness, so long as 
it entailed no personal sacrifice, but he objected 
to scenes, and he disliked to be “found out.” It 
was unnecessary, and it was bad taste, and he 
did his best to avoid such a social blunder, less 
as a tribute to virtue than one to conventionaliiy 
and comfort. A man of more sensitive nature 
and less immoral tendencies might have taken 


•285 PEG, THE RAKE. 

his evil deeds to heart, or felt his hearth shad- 
ows chilled by remorseful memories, but Sir Jas- 
per Lustrell was at once too callous and too 
selfish to be so troubled. 

The one thing that roused him to anger was 
an offense against his peace of mind. He was 
merciless both to the crime and the offender. 
For years he had not been so disturbed and so 
infuriated as by his discovery to-night. It had 
roused all that was bitter and evil in his nature; 
and recalled long past scenes when the position 
of deceiver and deceived had been reversed, and 
had sharpened his faculty for malice into a keen, 
savage desire that was only a degree less brutal 
than the violence of revenge. 

“She shall suffer every day and every hour of 
her life henceforward,’^ so ran his reflections as 
he leaned back and surveyed his wife, listening 
unmoved to her anger, smiling cynically from 
time to time at the illogical phases that anger 
took. “It will bean occupation for me to invent 
such punishment. But I must take her measure 
first. There are women whom it is not safe to 
drive to desperation. I learned that — once.” 

He rose abruptly. A long dead memory cut 
Sim sharply to the quick; the vision of an angry 
face, that in one brief hour had been brought into 
his presence again with all the anger hushed to 
eternal peace, and all the reproaches silenced. 

“One never knows what women will do,” he 
reflected, “and I don’t desire another scandal.” 

“ We will end this discussion once and for all,” 
he said, curtly. “It is desirable to maintain 


PKQ, THE RAKE. 


^89 


some appearance of propriety in our very recent 
relationship. But in everything appertaining to 
the management of affairs here, I alone am to 
be consulted. You wished to be Lady Lustre 11, 
and you have achieved your desire. I advise 
yon for your own sake to make the best of the 
empty honor you have gained. There will be 
little else to reward your achievement.’’ 

He bowed ironically, and left her standing 
there, the anger in her heart spent and burned 
to ashes of despair ! 


290 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHA.PTER XXV. 

REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. 

Molly was surprised to find the hall vacant 
when she returned after copying that distasteful 
letter. Her stepmother had retired to her own 
room without even a Good- night.” 

If the girl had seen her face as she stood on the 
threshold of those luxurious chambers, she would 
have been almost scared by its passion and fierce- 
ness. 

With a deliberation, terrible in its contrast to 
the flash and fury of her anger. Miss Em closed 
and locked door after door of communication. 

Then she lighted the candles before the long 
mirror, and stood there, silently surveying her- 
self, every nerve and fiber of her frame quiver- 
ing and thrilling with rage. 

“Oh! is there nothing 1 can do?” she cried; 
“nothing, nothing? Surely my wits haven’t de- 
serted me. I never yet have given in to any 
maif; am I to begin — nowf’ 

The light fell on the flashing jewels, swaying 
with the storm of her breast — the hurried breath 


PEG, THE RAKE 291 

and suppressed sobs of a woman’s futile anger. 
Tears rushed- in a burning throng to her eyes, 
but her strong will held them back. 

“I won’t cry, I am sick of tears,” she went 
on; ‘‘they are so useless, and I have shed so 
many.” 

Her arms fell to her side, she turned away from 
the glass and began to pace to and fro the long 
shadowy room. 

“I wonder which is the saddest stage of a wo- 
man’s sorrows,” she reflected; “to cry "because 
her heart is breaking for misery, or fear to cry 
because she has learned the uselessness of tears, 
and knows that grief brings fresh wrinkles, 
shadows unobliterable, lines and furrows no 
cosmetics can cure!” 

She. caught sight of her tall figure moving to 
and fro with the grace and restlessness of some 
untamable creature. “God! Of what did You 
make me?” she cried, suddenly, the passion in 
her voice breaking the hushed silence of the room 
like a jarring discord. 

The sound startled her and acted like a spell 
on her excited nerves. 

“This will never do,” she thought; “I shall 
be going out of my mind, or doing something 
desperate; and 1 have to live, act, endure still. 
Oh! how cruel life is! I thought I had done 
with all the horrible part of it ; that 1 could afford 
at last to be natural, and it seems I am worse off 
than ever. Truly Fate must have a spite against 
me! I can’t let myself down now before all 
those hateful women. How they would enjoy 


292 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


my disgrace after all these years of defiance! 
Better give in to Sir Jasper than let them have 
the laugh! I wonder how much he knows? I 
wonder how he heard? be spoke too positively 
for conjecture. Could Denis have betrayed me? 
There is no one else I have to fear. ’ ’ 

She paused, losing herself apparently in a maze 
of conjecture, then suddenly she seized one of the 
candlesticks and hurried into tbe little ante-room 
where her boxes were standing, just as they had 
arrived from Carrig-duve. Taking a bunch of 
keys from her pocket, she opened one of the 
trunks, a small insignificant-looking one, piled 
up with books, papers, writing-cases, and odds 
and ends of all kinds. Impetuouslj^ she seized 
one after another of the various articles and fiung 
them out on the floor; a strange anxious look 
crept into her face as she ended a search appar- 
ently futile. 

“It is no use looking in the others, she mut- 
tered; “they were all packed and locked before 
that last evening. 1 only left this on^ open and 
put everything in that was lying about or for- 
gotten. What can have become of it?” 

She knelt down amid the debris, peering anx- 
iously to and fro, her hands moving among the 
fragile, useless things with anxious hopeless- 
ness. 

“If I left it there — if it was in my room — if 
she has found it!” 

She gave a little inarticulate cry, and pressed 
her hands to her brow. “Oh!^ Let me think, 
let me be calm. How was it? I had tbe book 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


293 


in my hand; I was going to burn it, 1 remem- 
ber; then the knock came to the window — the 
old signal. I must have dropped it by the fire- 
place; I never thought of it again. Oh! what 
a fool I was! ^ Now I see it all; she has read it 
and told Sir Jasper, or written. The sudden 
change in him from the hour of our arrival 
proves that! Ah, have I found thee, O mine 
enemy?” 

She rose to her feet and stood there gazing 
with helpless wrath at the confusion she had 
created. Then she seized the things, and thrust 
them pell-mell into the box, closing and locking 
it with savage haste. 

“There is just one loop-hole of escape. Quin- 
lan may have found it. 1 must go to Carrig- 
duve to-rnorrow and find that out. But yet, Sir 
Jasper’s strange conduct — his accusation? He 
must have had good authority for speaking as 
he did. Oh, heavens ! they v/ill drive me mad 
between them, or to — ” 

She looked strangely round the room. 

“No; 1 mustn’t take to thaty^' she cried, wild- . 
ly. “God of mercy, hold me back, even in all 
my misery, from so desperate a remedy! And 
oh ! if Thou dost heed or care for prayers, listen 
to mine to-night! Send me sleep and rest, for I 
can bear no more.” 

She stumbled back to her bedroom and replaced 
the candlestick, and then threw herself dressed 
as she was on the couch before the fire. The 
climax to all she had endured the past fortnight 
had been reached this evening. The result was ^ 


294 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


an inevitable collapse. Mind and brain were alike 
incapable of bearing more. Helplessness and 
hopelessness overwhelmed her, and she felt like 
some battered, storm-driven bark drifting over 
the dark waters of Fate. 

As the night deepened, a deeper 'mournfulness 
sounded in the moan of the wind, and the fall- 
ing tears of heaven. She lay and listened in the 
frozen apathy of despair, thankful only for the 
sudden lull of peace which had stolen at last to 
her spent and overwrought brain. 

It was not sleep, it was not even rest; but it 
wks the precursor to either; a temporary lull in 
the fearful storm that had racked and rent her 
in these last fearful hours ! 


If the veil could have been lifted from the 
hearts of the three people who met at the break- 
fast-table at Castle Lustrell next morning, strange 
and diverse would have been the revelations of 
each. 

Sir Jasper, never at his best either in looks or 
temper in the early part of the day, looked feeble 
and querulous to a degree. Miss Em, despite 
cold water and skilit'ul use of toilet adjuncts, 
showed unmistakable signs of the conflict of the 
previous night. The morning is always cruel to 
women who have passed premiere jeunesse; 
and Miss Em, who would have faced a regiment 
fearlessly by the light of candle or lamp, knew 
how much she betrayed when the searching rays 
of sunshine fell upon her at the breakfast- table 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


of any house where she had not yet found the 
best vantage-point for seating herself. 

To judge from her manner, however, the con- 
versation of the previous night might nev^er have 
taken place. She smiled at and turned aside all 
Sir Jasper’s ill-natured cynical speeches, and 
simply would not be driven to retort. 

When breakfast was nearly over, she turned 
to the old butler who had been waiting on his 
master during the meal. ‘‘Brian,” she said, “I 
want the carriage round in an hour’s time. Be 
good enough to order it.” 

Sir Jasper looked up sharply. “The morning 
is fine enough for a walk,” he said; “I never 
allow the carriage out till after luncheon.” 

“Very well,” said Miss Em, quietly; “it is 
rather a long walk to Carrig-duve, and the roads 
will hardly be at their best after the storm of last 
night, but I suppose I can manage it. You need 
not expect me back to luncheon.” 

“Oh, if it’s to Carrig - duve . you’re going, ” 
grumbled Sir Jasper, “you had better have the 
carriage. You’re in a great hurry to see them. ” 

Miss Em gave no reply. She finished her tea 
and put down her cup. The man had left the 
room to give the necessary orders. 

“May I. ask what day you expect your sister?” 
she said coolly to Sir Jasper, “because I detest 
housekeeping, and it would be no use commenc- 
ing what I do not intend to continue. Molly 
may as well give the orders up to the time of Miss 
Lustrell’s return. It will be conferring quite a 
favor on me.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


JiOG 

Sir Jasper’s brow darkened. He had not ex- 
pected to have the ground cut from under his 
feet in this fashion. He had meant to give the 
first intimation to his daughter of the slight to 
be put upon his wife, but she had forestalled 
him. 

He looked at her, quite at a loss to reply, and 
Molly’s pained, astonished face added fuel to his 
wrath. 

“Your family were proverbial for being bad 
managers,” he sneered; “but I should have 
imagined a woman of your age would have been 
capable of domestic superintendence.” 

“Capable — yes,” agreed Miss Em, smilingly; 
“but not inclined to undertake it when any one 
else in the house will do it. These little matters 
are so much better put on a proper footing from 
the first, my dear Sir Jasper, that I prefer to 
mention it at once to your daughter and your- 
self.” 

“Madam,” said the old man, sharply, “I might 
insist upon your fulfilling certain duties which 
appertain to the mistress of this house.” 

“Oh, no, no,” laughed Miss Em, merrily; “you 
would never be so cruel. Sir Jasper! I am a 
most incapable housekeeper, I assure you, and 
you would never have a dinner fit to eat if I had 
the ordering of it. You can’t tell what a relief 
it was to hear that your sister was coming back 
to us. She will take the responsibility of our 
first dinner-party entirely off my hands, and keep 
up the prestige of the castle so much better than 
I could do.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


‘297 

“ Dinner-party queried Sir Jasper. “Pray, 
who said any thing about dinner-parties? If you 
think I am going to give any, you were never 
more mistaken in your life.” 

“Oh! do you really mean that?” said Miss 
Em, raising her eyebrows with affected surprise. 
‘ ‘ W ell, it is good news. I have been quite dread- 
ing the ordeal, I assure you. I detest dinner- 
parties myself, but I was so afraid you might 
look upon one at least as obligatory to your posi- 
tion. But you don’t? That is really very charm- 
ing, and makes it so easy for me to explain to 
people: ‘Sir Jasper does not like dinners;’ ‘Sir 
Jasper is such an invalid that the fatigue and 
excitement of dinners quite upset him;’^ ‘Sir 
Jasper — ’ ” 

“D-— n it, madam, w-ill you hold your 
tongue ? ” roared the old baronet, furiously. 
“ Do you suppose I’m going to be repre- 
sented as a hypochondriac to please you? I’ll 
give a dinner every night of the week if I 
choose, and ask whom I like to it! Pll have 
no woman dictating to me what I’m to do, or 
not to do.” 

Miss Em rose from her seat with quiet dig- 
nity. 

“I have no wish to dictate to you in any way, 
Sir Jasper — quite the reverse. But permit me 
to remark I tarn not accustomed to be sworn at; 
and if you cannot moderate your language in the 
presence of ladies, Jat least must decline to listen 
to it.” 

She had swept out of the room and closed the 


298 ' 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


door before the old man had recovered from his 
astonishment. 

There was nothing to do except vent his wrath 
on Molly, who, though personally unoffending, 
belonged to the same sex as the offender This 
he did unsparingly, until he had reduced the 
girl to tears. When that was accomplished he 
retired to his own study, a luxurious octagon 
chamber specially dedicated to himself and his 
comforts, and where no rash intruder ever dared 
to venture. Here he sat himself down before a 
fire which, except in the heat of summer, was 
always kept burning in the vast open fireplace. 
A table beside the tall velvet-backed chair held 
papers, books, cigar- boxes, all the paraphernalia 
of a man’s comfort. The walls were lined with 
bookcases and rare engravings, and a few choice 
bronzes and sculptured relics of bj^gone days, 
when his ancestry had loved art, or patronized 
it, relieved the somber aspect of the room. The 
owner of it all looked the picture of refined dis- 
content, as he lighted a choice cigar and leaned 
back against the cushions. For some moments 
he smoked in silence, the frown deepening on 
his brow, the lines about his mouth showing 
hard and cruel in their set savagery of expres- 
sion. 

When the cigar was finished he suddenly leaned 
forward and unlocked the drawer of the table by 
his side. From among the mass of papers and 
letters, all neatly arranged and docketed, he took 
out a small thick packet wrapped in brown paper. 
For a moment he held it in his hands, looking 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


299 


at it as if it were some noxious thing; then he 
laid it down on the table before him and began 
to scan page after page with moody, sullen 
eyes. 

The writing was a woman’s writing. The en- 
tries were the mad, impulsive, incoherent confes- 
sions of a girl’s undisciplined heart, a girl who 
called herself, in these tear - blotted, accusing 
pages, “Peg, the, Rake.” ^ 


300 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

FOREARMED. 

“Bless us and save us, if it baint Miss Peg 
herself ; beggin’ yer pardin’, darlin’, me lady, I 
mane !” 

Quinlan had opened the door to the footman’s 
loud rap and found herself confronted by the cas- 
tle carriage, from which Miss Em had alighted. 

“How are you, Quinny?” she said hurriedly. 
“Hush!” she added warningly, as she closed the 
door and laid her hand on the old woman’s arm ; 
“it’s you I’ve come to see. Keep your wits 
about you and answer me one question — straight. 
Did you find a leather-covered pocketbook in my 
bedroom after I left? — full of writing. Yes — 
or no.” 

“Xo, darlin’ ! me lady, I mane. I found noth- 
ing save an old pair of silk stockings, and a bog- 
oak brooch stuck in the pin-cushion. ’ ’ 

“Did any one else go there before you? think 
well, Quinny. You don’t know how important 
it is for me to know.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


301 


“Shure, now an’ I come to think of it, me 
lady, I remimbers the whisk of a gown as I 
looked out of Miss Bedelia’s door, and my re- 
markin’ that same to her and wonderin’ who 
would be after peerin’ and pry in’ into the room 
so soon after ye’d left it.” 

“Ah!”— Miss Em caught her breath sharplj^ 
“Then I know where I am; that’ll do, Quinny. 
I’ll speak with you later on, Now— announce 
me!” 

So might a royal visitor have spoken ; so might 
a duchess have swept into the old dingy dining- 
room; so might an O’Hara alone have answered 
to the whip and spur of circumstances, deter- 
mined that neither eye nor limb should show 
sign of failing or of fear. 

Mrs. O’Hara rose at her entrance, her face 
white, her manner somewhat nervous. This 
splendid vision, faultless in :Htire, radiant in 
looks, startled her out of her usual composure. 

“How are you both? You see I lost no time 
in coming over to see you !” exclaimed Miss Em, 
greeting first one and then the other. “You 
don’t look very well, father; not fed up enough, 
I suppose. At your time of life you want good 
nourishment and plenty of it. You should in- 
sist on getting it. Well, you see I’m alive and 
hearty. We returned -yesterday ; everything is 
delightful at the castle. Sir Jasper’s sister had 
considerately gdhe away, but I’ve asked her to 
return. And Molly, the dear girl, is as charm- 
ing as ever she can be. I thought- I’d just run 
over and pay my respects here. Thank you for 


302 PEG, THE RAKE. 

sending over my boxes” — (with a gay little nod 
at Mrs. O’Hara); “they were there safe, and 
my maid unpacked them last night. I found 
everything all right.” 

She dropped a hurried kiss on her father’s 
head, and then drew up a chair beside him. 

“I’ll stay to luncheon,” she said agreeably. 
“1 suppose you have something in the house. 
And you must treat me to a bottle of Burgundy, 
father, just to welcome me back, 3"ou know.” 

“Certainly, my dear, certainly,” said the old 
gentleman, beaming on her with proud and ad- 
miring gaze. “I’ll fetch it from the cellar my- 
self. You have the keys there, I suppose?” he 
said, looking at the basket which Mrs. O’Hara 
was jealously guarding. 

Miss Em made a sudden dive at it and handed 
it to her father. “There,” she said, giving'him 
the key which she knew well; “now jmu run off 
and show me v, at a good old cellarer you can 
be. Remember you’ve got a titled \sidy for your 
daughter now, and you must do her honor.” 

Her gay little laugh, her incessant chatter 
seemed but the exuberance of supreme content 
and hoart- whole gayety; only a very sharp e.ye 
would have discovered that both mirth and chat-* 
ter were thoroughly artificial, and that she her- 
self was in a state of supreme nervousness. 

Mrs. O’Hara was puzzled as well as irate. 
Her stepdaughter was even more insolent than 
of yore, and yet she felt she could not snub Lady 
Lustrell as she had been accustomed to snub 
Emilia O’Hara. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


303 


They sat for a moment in silence, casting fur- 
tive glances at each, other; the one conscious of 
a meanness that had all the will and purpose of 
wrecking the other’s life, and that other equally 
conscious of the action and its authorship, and 
storing up future vengeance in a sorely troubled 
mind. 

“She has done it; I can read it in the /car in 
her eyes,” thought Miss Em savagely. 

“I wonder if he has told her yet. No; impos- 
sible. She could not be so indifferent and cool 
if he had. There would have been a scene, I am 
sure,” so ran Mrs. O’Hara’s reflections. “ What 
a hypocrite she is ! How she has deceived every 
one all her life! How comi^letelj^ she hood- 
winked that pbor old man! Well, I hope he 
wiU serve her out for it.. She certainly de- 
serves it. I only did my duty by warning him. 
AVhat a pity I only found out her secret a day 
too late!” 

“Do you wish to go to your room and remove 
your bonnet?” she said at last stiffly. “You 
will find it all in order; I saw to that my-^ 
self.” 

“Thanks, how kind of you,” said Miss Enx; 
“but I don’t think I’ll go upstairs. It’s not 
worth while for the short time 1 shall be here. 
Perhaps, though, you would send something out 
to the men? Bread and cheese and whisky, or 
something of that sort.” 

A thin streak of crimson came into Mrs. 
O’Hara’s shallow face. She could scarcely re- 
fuse the request, but it went to her heart to have 


304 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


to dispense hospitality to her hated stepdaugh- 
ter’s servants. 

“I’ll tell Quinlan,” she muttered, darting an 
angry glance at the imperturbable face. “Per- 
haps you’ll excuse me now, for I have to see 
about the luncheon.” 

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” said Miss Em 
suavely. “You wouldn’t be standing on cere- 
mony with me at this time of day, I’m sure; 
and I think I hear the governor returning. 
We’ll find plenty to talk about, I’ve no doubt; 
and as for luncheon, really a glass of wine and a 
biscuit is as much as I care for. But I know 
you^re a very Martha of hospitality, so I’ll not 
presume to dictate.” 

“There, I think that was a good shot,” 
she said to herself as her enemy retreated 
abruptly. 

The mask fell from her face as the door closed. 
All the anxiety she felt, the indignation she had 
suppressed, the dread of what the hateful presci- 
ent future might have in store for her, flashed 
out in the brooding darkness of her eyes and the 
frown that deepened on her brow. 

“It gets so wearisome, this perpetual play- 
ing of a part, and oh! 1 am so tired of it,” 
she thought. “ In all the world there’s not 
a creature with whom I can afford to be 
perfectly open and truthful, except, perhaps, 
Quinny.” 

The entrance of her father roused her again. 
She rose from her chair, and going up to the 
old man put her arms round his neck and stood 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


305 


for a moment leaning her head against his 
shoulder. 

“Why— Peg, why, my dear!” he exclaimed in 
some surprise at so unwonted a display of feel- 
ing. “There’s nothing the matter, is fcliere?” 
he asked tenderly. “ You’re not unhappy. 
Peg?” 

“No, father, oh, no,” she said quickly; “a lit- 
tle tired and worn out, that’s all. But I want 
you to say you forgive me for being such a bad, 
troublesome daughter as I have been to you. 
I— never asked before, did I? But I do now. 
After all I am your child, your only child, and 
you were so fond of me, once.” 

“Always, always, my darling,” said the old 
man, patting her gently on the shoulder as if she 
were a child he was soothing. “Just as fond 
now. Peg, as when you were a little spoiled, 
mischievous girl, the life and sunshine of the 
place. Surely you don’t think I’ve ever changed 
toward you?” 

“No, father, no,” she said chokingly; “but 
vit’s good sometimes to feel one is loved. I’ve 
given you a lot of trouble in my time, you poor 
old dear,” she added, lifting her head and gaz- 
ing with strangely wistful eyes at the worn face 
and silver hair. “A lot of trouble. But there, 
it’s all over now; you’ll have no more heart- 
aches on my account, and no worries either, if I 
can prevent it. You’re quite sure jmu forgive 
me— everything?” she repeated. 

“Everything,” answered the old man; “and I 
do hope this was a wise step of yours, and that 


306 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


you’ll be happy. You were always willful, you 
know. Peg. You took your own way in this as 
in other things; 1 hope it 'wasn’t a foolish pro- 
ceeding on your part. Ah ! marriage is a great 
risk, my dear, a great, great risk.” 

She sighed heavily, and unclasped her arms. - 

“I know it is,” she said slowly. “But I am 
too old now to begin life again. I must be con- 
tent with the lees and the dregs, and be thankful 
I once had something better. ’ ’ 

She walked over to the window and stood there 
looking out at the neglected garden, where the 
spring wind rioted among trails and tangles of 
creepers, and the spring sunshine glowed over 
weeds and flowers alike. 

“Dear old garden, dear old home!” ran her 
thoughts. “I never knew till now how happy 
I was here once^ and how safe. Ah, well ! I 
mustn’t begin to think these thoughts, or I’ll 
break down altogether, and my time hasn’t come 
for that. 1 can’t afford the luxury of a ‘good 
cry’ even; tears take too much out of one at 
forty.” 

She went back to her old place by her father 
and smiled down at his anxious face, and then 
began to chatter of a hundred trifles — anecdotes 
of her wedding tour ; of people she had met and 
spoken with at Killarney ; of the castle and its 
inmates. 

But now and then she stopped abruptly, and 
tried to remember what it was she was saying, 
and seemed to be listening to herself as if she 
were an outsider in the conversation. “How I 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


307 


go onr^ she thought; “I’m like a machine set 
agoing for a given time. Shall I break down 
some dajr and betray myself?” 

To her father she seemed just the old random, 
inconsequent Peg he had always known. He 
could not dream that she found it easier to act 
as was habitual and expected, than to reason out 
a new line of conduct or lay bare her unhappi- 
ness to any living creature. She iiad set herself 
a part, and she went through it merciless' but 
resolute, as was her nature when a given object 
was at stake. 

When at last she left Carrig-duve, she also left 
Mrs. O’Hara puzzled beyond expression as to the 
success of her scheme, and smarting inwardly 
from many a sharp speech and veiled insolence 
on the part of Lady Lustrell. 

But when the door closed on her, and the car- 
riage was driving rapidly down the stony avenue, 
she poured forth vials of wrath on her unoffend- 
ing husband, declaring that she could not and 
would not put up with his daughter’s sneers and 
impertinences any longer ; and winding up with a 
covert hint that the said lady might find the path 
of matrimony less smooth than she anticipated if 
something of her past career was brought to 
light. 

“Old sins have long shadows,” she wound up, 
“and perhaps my Lady Lustrell hasn’t seen the 
last of hers.” 

Old Mr. O’Hara looked at the sharp, vindic- 
tive face in some alarm at the remark. 

“Sins!” he echoed; “what sins of Peg’s can 


308 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


be brought against her now? She was only fool- 
ish and reckless, no worse than other girls. Even 
if she had been she might be excused, she was so 
very beautiful, and she had no mother. ” 

“Of course you will take her part — that is only 
to be expected,” sneered Mrs. O’Hara. “She 
could make you believe anything. But mark 
my words,” she added, emphatically, “the day 
will come when her sins will find her out; and 
the first person to visit them on her will be the 
selfish old fool she has married.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


309 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

V 

“one touch of nature.’’ 

Miss Em had not trusted herself to speak to 
Quinlan again. 

She had learned all she wished to learn, and 
knew exactly what she had to combat in the 
future. That foolish record of her girlhood 
had fallen into Sir Jasper’s hands, and her 
stepmother had been the means of its doing 
so. Everything it contained had doubtless 
been read by both, and she had now two 
enemies to face instead of one. 

“The question is, can I do it?” she reflected. 
“Have 1 strength and courage sufficient, and is 
the game worth the candle that will have to be 
burned out in the playing?” 

She leaned her head. back against the soft cush- 
ions of the carriage, and closed her eyes with a 
sense of utter weariness. 

After all, life is very hard for women; women 
of Miss Em’s type, who live for the world and 
its social prizes, and have no definite object or 
ambition on which superfluous energy and men- 
tal strength can spread themselves; whose minds 


no 


PEGf, THE RAKE. 


are but a general cargo of things, good, bad or 
indifferent, and hold no special store on which 
to draw for individual benefit. 

The march of progress has decided that women 
ought all to “do something,” if only to keep 
them out of mischief ; and there is no doubt that 
the dwarfed domestic sphere to which they have 
been so long relegated can no longer content 
'them. 

To the genius that has defied arbitrary control, 
and the intellect that has scaled barrier after 
barrier in its search for knowledge, the paltry 
vanities of ordinary female existence are utterly 
insignificant. 

Man enters on the field of enterprise with le?s 
zest and far less enthusiasm, because to him it 
is no new thing. He has not undergone centu- 
ries of repression ; he has no weakening hereditary 
theories to combat. But every gate her determi- 
nation has unlocked, every bar her desire has 
leaped, every obstacle her will has vanquished, 
these make woman at once an incentive and 
a triumph! 

She who has once loved art and touched the 
wine cup of fame can never again be satisfied 
with the stunted career so long relegated to her. 
Fashion, folly and frivolity fly abashed befoi*e 
mental freedom. What can they offer in any 
way worthy of comparison with the delight that 
thrills both soul and sense as the brain leaps into 
warm full life, untrammeled, undeterred! To 
own no rule but that of thonght, no sway but 
the magic dominance that at once controls and 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


311 


commands it, this is indeed to live. To live by 
right of single birth- throe which has created a 
power and a life ! To will and to he at the bid- 
ding of desire. To know that failure has no 
meaning, and success no shadow; to yield to the 
spell of inspiration, and leave brain or hand to 
pilt into visible shape what “e^^e hath not seen, 
nor ear heard” ? 

If the spell, would but last, if the physical nat- 
ure were only less arbitrary! Alas! alas! as 
well say if it were possible to paint the glitter 
of the dew, the bloom of the rose petals, the hues 
of the rainbow. 

Life for many a long year had seemed impos- 
sible to Miss Em without perpetual excitement. 
I f she had had any special ambition it was to 
be rich, and to be able to lord it over women 
who had at one time been very spiteful to her- 
self. 

Not a very noble ambition, or, indeed, a very 
creditable one; but, all the same, it was a crush- 
ing blow to be confronted with its failure just 
when achievement was possible. 

She was not possessed of any distinctive talent 
or gift of genius. Her sphere of thought and life 
were limited to a purely personal existence, and 
to purely personal ambitions. 

She had no “views,” and loved a social whirl 
better than contemplative comfort. She was 
clever enough to escape being overlooked among 
clever people, and skillful enough to appear 
retiring when it would have been risky to be 
assertive. 


312 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


With a different training and different sur- 
roundings she might hasre been a better woman, 
and a more important one. But we have yet to 
discover whether circumstances or ourselves are 
to blame for our manifold failures. Miss Em 
only knew that a foolish, hot-headed youth had 
left her stranded now on the barren shore of 
middle-age, with nothing very reputable to look 
back upon and nothing very hopeful to look for- • 
ward to. 

It was a sorry prospect. Life at the stage of 
regrets must always be that. 

She stood apart from herself and contemplated 
that self as an onlooker might have done; and 
the long drive seemed all too short for the con- 
templation, and the weary brain refused to 
lighten the picture by any prospective view of 
hope. 

Luncheon was long over when she reached the 
castle, and the old butler informed her that Sir 
Jasper was in his study, and Miss MoUy in the 
grounds. 

Thankful for a prospect of rest. Miss Em 
went to her own room, giving orders to the 
maid that she was not to be disturbed till 
tea-time. 

Her one chance she now knew lay in saving 
her energies, and making the best of the situ- 
ation. As yet, Sir Jasper had made no tangible 
accusation; she must, if possible, prevent his 
doing so. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


313 


When tact and submission would serve her 
end she was ready to appear submissive. On 
the other hand, when warfare was imperative she 
must have bow and spear in readiness. But not 
for any consideration must she let herself down 
before the county who would criticise her, and 
the women who would envy her. “On guard” 
must be her watchword henceforth; “on guard” 
till the weary daj^ had earned the rest of even- 
song, till the spent and storm-tossed vessel might 
“cross the bar” at last and know the peace of a 
sure haven ! 

The quiet and warmth of her room, and the 
absolute rest which two hours of solitude gave 
her, did much to tranquilize Miss Em’s nerves 
and prepare her for the next meeting with Sir 
J asper. 

She had made up her mind that she would not 
quarrel with him, that nothing short of absolute 
cruelty should force her to do so. The hardest 
part of her life would be the infliction of Miss 
Sabina’s presence, but even that she could tolerate 
when so much was at stake. 

“After all, it might not be for very long; Sir 
Jasper was old, twenty years older than her- 
self.” 

So ran her thoughts as she stood surveying 
herself in the glass before leaving her room 
for tea. 

Molly was waiting for her in the hall. She 
looked a little troubled and perplexed; she had 
a vague feeling that all was not right between 
her father and his new wife, and the anxiety of 


I 


314 PEG, THE RAKE 

her mind showed itself in her eyes as she turned 
to greet her step-mother. 

“Papa has had some tea taken into his study,” 
she said, and could not help noticing the relief 
that sprang into Miss Em’s face as she heard the 
announcement. 

“Oh, then, we shall be all to ourselves,” she 
said, sinking down into the low, deep chair Molly 
had drawn forward. 

“Yes,” said the girl; “we generally shall be 
alone at this hour, too, for papa rarely joins me. 
Oh! how 1 wish he hadn’t asked Aunt Sabina 
back. What could have induced him, and how 
could you let him?” 

“My dear Molly,” said Miss Em, slowly, as 
she poured out the tea, “when you have lived as 
long in the world as I have done, you will find 
out that very little is to be gained by opposing a 
man in small matters. Indeed, the very fact of 
giving in on minor points often enables a woman 
to gain an important one.” 

“Throwing a sprat to catch a mackerel,” 
laughed the girl. “But I shouldn’t call Aunt 
Sabina’s presence here a ‘small matter.’ You 
can liave no idea what a disagreeable person she 
is to live with. Such a screw. The servants 
all hate her. I’m sure there will be ‘ructions’ 
when they hear she is coming back. Bnt surely 
you don’t mean what you said this morning, that 
you would let her manage the house, just as if 
she was mistr ess ? You were only j okiiig, weren’ t 
you?” 

Miss Em looked at the lovely, pleading face 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


315 


with quite a new sense of the difficulty of “act- 
ing a part.” 

She swallowed her tea and set down the cup. 
For once in her life she longed to b ) able to be 
honest and open with the girl, but the tempta- 
tion had to be resisted. It would not do to risk 
betrayal ; and youth is apt to be outspoken and 
disingenuous. 

“No, Molly; I was in earnest,” she said. “I 
am a dreadfully lazy person, and I do hate house- 
keeping. I’ve never been used to it, you see, 
and I should be sure to make a desperate muddle 
of it all. Now your aunt has for years managed 
everything here, and knows exactly how to suit 
your father’s tastes. The arrangement, there- 
fore, satisfies him, while leaving me at liberty. 
1 won’t say that I’m fond of the estimable lady,” 
she added, laughing somewhat forcedly, “but no 
doubt we shall get on very well. I’m used to liv- 
ing with queer people.” 

“That is one reason why 1 imagined you 
would be thankful to be independent and free,” 
said Molly. “1 candidly confess I detest her, 
and I’m sure she’ll spoil life here for both of 
us; it’s a terrible disappointment — it is in- 
,deed.” 

Molly’s lip quivered; the lovely radiant eyes 
looked almost tearful. Miss Em glanced away 
quickly, the sudden pain at her heart surprised 
herself. 

“Oh! why can’t one’s actions only concern 
one’s self?” she thought, bitterly. “ Why must 
the innocent always suffer with the guilty?” 


316 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“My dear,” she said, after that moment’s 
pause, “I’m very sorry that you are averse to 
your father’s wish. 1 — oh, Molly, Molly!” she 
burst out suddenly, “I can't talk platitudes! It 
— it sounds so unreal; I’ve not got ‘a little hoard 
of maxims’ stored up with which to preach down 
a girl’s heart. Oh, my dear, believe I’m fond of 
you, fonder, I think, than of any human being; 
and I wanted to make you so happy if I could. , 
If this could have been avoided, believe me I 
would have done my best to avoid it for both 
oursakes, and when I say ‘it must be,’ I only say 
it because I know it. I can’t giv^e you any rea- 
sons either, only what your father decides upon 
that is what we both have to give in to, whether 
we like it or not.” 

“Ah!” said Molly in quick alarm; “you have 
heard something about him — his health. I know 
his heart is weak ; Doctor MacShamus told me 
so; and that’s why you are so sweet and sub- 
missive to him.. How good you are! I don’t 
wonder that every one loves you; I’ve always 
said that you were my ideal of a perfect wo- 
man.” 

“ A perfect woman— I ! Good heavens, child, 
what an ideal you have formed!” 

Her voice was husky and uncertain, but she 
nerved herself to be calm. A girl’s foolish fond- 
ness — what was that to break down the compos- 
ure and self-control of years? 

“But you are my ideal, you know,” said Molly, 
protestingly ; she came and knelt down on the 
rug by Miss Em’s side and leaned her head 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


317 


against her as she had a childish trick of doing. 
“Ask Paddy if you’re not. I’ve always admired 
you so. Why, when you’re in the room you can 
attract every one around you. You’re so bril- 
liant, and then you’re so kind-hearted; you don’t 
mind trouble or bother if it’s to please any one 
else, and the poor people about the place all adore 
you. Why, only the other day Mrs. Rooney, the 
‘dalin woman’ as they call her, was telling the 
cook how good you were to her and her children 
when they had the fever two years ago. No, 
don’t shake your head, I mean it all. I’ve al- 
ways thought you such a good woman.” 

Such a good woman! 

The words echoed and re-echoed in the weary, 
overstrained brain. Such a good woman! The 
passionate denial forced back was only the in- 
dignant protest of genuine feeling. 

“What she thinks me, so I might have been,” 
cried Self - accusation, “if only my youth had 
known one such friend as I feel it in me to be 
to /ier.” 

The soft slow tears, unchecked Jbecause un- 
heeded, pure, womanly tears, gathered and fell 
one by one on the clasped hands. 

Miss Em had broken down at last. 


318 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“makes the whole world kin.” 

The lady of Castle Lustrell was very, very 

ill. 

So ill that Dr. MacShamus, summoned in hot 
haste at dead of night, looked more than serious, 
and suggested a specialist from Dublin; so ill 
that Molly crept about on tiptoe, scared and ter- 
rorstricken; so ill that Miss Sabina’s presence, 
hateful as it was, seemed both necessary and 
beneficial, inasmuch as nothing so w-eak as “feel- 
ings” ever shook her self-composure or betrayed 
her into any display of emotion. 

“She has been living at high pressure so long,” 
said Dr. MacShamus to his wife, “that it’s no 
wonder she has broken down. The marvel is 
how she has kept going all these years.” 

“But why did she do it?” asked Mrs. Mac- 
Shamus. The good worthy soul could not 
imagine any one living under “higher press- 
ure” than that demanded by purely domestic 
obligations, varied by little social calls on one’s 
attention. 

“ Whv?” — the doctor looked at her as if won- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


319 


dering hov\^ ranch she could bear. “Why? well, 
women do queer things sometimes, my dear. The 
‘cow- type’ is the only safe one. To eat, drink, 
sleep, and rea dieir young. To chew the cud 
of sweet and homely fancies — never bitter ones. 
To take life easilj^, and make its amusements a 
pleasure — not a task. To know monotony only 
as a luxury easy of attainment and never an 
irksome bondage forced on endurance. I fear 
Miss Em was not of the cow-type — far from it. 
Life meant too much for her — monotony was 
death. She could not take her fill of idle, pur- 
poseless days; and so varied her existence by 
escapades and excitements, and stratagems which 
have landed her at last into congestion of the 
brain. It is the natural consequence of an un- 
natural state of things. I deplore it, but I have 
foreseen it since — ” 

“Since when, Jerry?” asked Mrs. MacShamus, 
looking up wonderingly as he paused. 

“Since that day when she and Denis Mor- 
rison met again,” answered the doctor, rather 
absently. 

The start of surprise, the quick fiush on the 
old lady’s cheek, warned him he had been im- 
prudent. 

“Don’t you mention, that to any living soul 
—on peril of your life!” he added, with sudden- 
sternness. “I’ll have no gossip and scandal about 
the poor soul now. She’s attained her ambition, 
1 suppose, but all the same I’m d— d sorry for 
her. That cold-blooded petrifaction yonder is 
just essence of self and nothing more. He’s 


320 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


scarcely the decency to appear sorry or even 
concerned. Molly is the only one at the place 
with an ounce of feeling, and she’s a little too 
much. 1 had no idea she was so fond of her 
stepmother.” 

“Every one was fond of Miss Em who knew 
her,” said Mrs. MacShamus, wiping her eyes. 
“But what did you mean, Jerry, just now, when 
you spoke of Denis Morrison? Surely that old 
story could have nothing to do with Miss Em’s 
present illness.” 

“Nothing whatever,” said the doctor, curJy. 
“I never said it had.” 

“You — you mentioned his name,” suggested 
the old lady. 

“Yes, and 1 mentioned a cow, and — and a few 
other trifles — therapeutics, congestion, phleboto- 
my, cardiac affections,” answered the doctor, 
sharply; “but they’re not of material importance 
to the case. I wish Sir J asper would let me tele- 
graph for Possett,” he added, suddenh^ — “mean 
old brute!” 

“But it’s paying you a very high compli- 
ment, Jerry,” said Mrs. MacShamus, “to be 
saying he’s quite satisfied with your treat- 
ment.” 

“It’s a compliment that saves him a hundred 
.guineas, and that’s more to the point,” snapped 
the doctor, sharply. “I’ve never had such a 
case before, and, frankly, I don’t like the respon- 
sibilit y . T he very fact of the sentiment concerned 
in the matter upsets me. If she were a stranger 
I wouldn’t care; but I’m as fond of her as if she 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


321 


were my own child, and that’s not a word of a 
lie, let me tell you.” 

“I can quite believe it, Jerry,” said the old 
lady, “and indeed if 1 were you I’d not be stand- 
ing on ceremony. Her life’s more important 
than Sir Jasper’s whims. Why don’t you send 
for that Dublin man they say is so clever? You 
remember Miss Bedelia was speaking of him at 
thotirne of the wedding.” 

“True for you, old lady! I do believe you are 
really waking up at last. Faith, and I’ll send 
otf at once, and hare him here to-morrow whether 
the old petrifaction likes it or not. Give me a 
kiss, old lady. ’Twas a brilliant idea entirely; 
Miss Em will be thanking you yet, or my name 
isn’t Gerald MacShamus. He’s just the man — 
young, clever, advanced, iron nerve, and a rep- 
utation to make. I vronder 1 never thought 
of him. Well, IJl be off and send the tele- 
gram. 1 don’t know his address, but Dub- 
lin will find him no doubt. ’Tisn’t a very 
common name!” 

He bustled off in a whirl of excitement, leav- 
ing his wife to wipe her eyes at her leisure, and 
entertain “droppers in” with the latest bulletin 
of news from the castle. 

If Miss Em had racked her powers of inven- 
tion for a method of springing into sudden popu- 
larity she could not have hit upon one more suc- 
cessful than this illness. 

It was sudden, it was unexpected, it was at 
once tragic and affecting. The bride of a fort- 


322 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


night, and stricken down like this— fighting with 
the grim foe whom all alike shun and dread! 
Her name ran like wildfire from lip to lip, and 
every good deed and kindly word was remembered 
now. Even her traducers held their peace, and 
felt they could afford to “assume a virtue if the 5^ 
had it not,” and express their sorrow for such 
a calamity. Rich and poor alike flocked to the 
castle gates with sympathy and offers of help. 
It was the topic of the hour, and the concern 
even of the most unconcerned. 

Meanwhile, the sufferer herself lay in a dark- 
ened room — blind, deaf, forgetful — and uncon- 
’ scions of anything around her. 

Life had come to a sudden pause. The whole 
complex machinery was at a standstill. There 
was no physical suffering, only a sense of dark- 
ness and oppression— a bewildered endeavor to 
travel on a journey that offered perpetual ob- 
stacles — a progress met by blank, impossible 
walls — an entrance through gates which clanged 
and closed, and shut the traveler into a darkness 
dense and tomblike, from which she shrank 
shrieking in vain terror, and fcjrced on by in- 
exorable hands. 

Yet, through all that terrible time the brain 
let no secret escape. No word betrayed the past 
or let in any light on t'he long- borne burden of 
shame, misery, false excitement, and false living 
which had made up the sum of existence for the 
last twenty years. 

It was strange how one foolish incident seemed 
to haunt her. With what wearisome reiteration 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


323 


she returned to it day after day, hour after hour ; 
she was always at work on that old black satin, 
trying to get it ready for the Dublin ball. Al- 
ways unpicking and rearranging, and trying on, 
and beseeching every one to help her, or it would 
never be ready in time. * 

Molly nearly cried her eyes out over the pathos 
of those entreaties, and the utter uselessness of 
trying to soothe her into believing the task ac- 
complished. 

That ball seemed to date an epoch in her 
memory. 

Of her life before she said nothing; and 
of her life since there was but vague, foolish 
babbling: nothing that could possibly convey 
to any listener the effort it had been or still 
might be. 

Miss Sabina listened, as she took her share of 
watching, with grim, unsmiling lips. To her 
this illness of her sister-in-law was but an ill- 
advised and inopportune proceeding. But she 
did not shrink from the duties it imposed on her, 
or from carrying out any instructions of the two 
doctors. 

The “new man” from Dublin fully justified 
Miss Bedelia’s encomiums, and his treatment, 
though somewhat audacious in Dr. MacShamus’s 
old-fashioned opinion, was skillful enough to 
startle that worthy practitioner into praise of the 
most unqualified description. 

It was a matter of no surprise (though it gave 
rise to much incidental warfare afterward) when 
Quinlan marched up to the castle and announced 


324 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


her intention of nursing the patient. In vain 
Miss Sabina put on her most forbidding as- 
pect, and declared that her services were not 
required. 

“Savin’ yer presence, ma’am,” was the old 
woman’s rejoinder, “it’s not his lordship himself 
nor the whole medical faculty that could be after 
kapin’ me back from me dear child. Shure, an’ 
haven’t I nursed and tinded and waited on her 
all her life, and is it now when she’s lying at 
death’s door that I’m to be forbidden her pres- 
ence? If ye bolts the door I’ll get in through 
the windy ; and if ye forbids me the castle, faith 
I’ll jist sit meself down at the gates yonder 
and tell ivery blessed sowl that comes near 
the place that it’s yer spite and ill-feelin’ as 
is preventin’ the darlin’ from recavin’ proper 
attintion, for ye was always jealous of her, 
that’s thrue for ye; and I’ll git the ears of 
the doctors, more power to thim, but nurse and 
care my dear Miss Peg I will, an’ laste said the 
better for all P 

“And I suppose she’s quite capable of doing 
all she threatens,” reflected Miss Sabina, savage- 
ly, “making a scandal of the place. This comes' 
of marrying into such a set! I’d like to see any 
servant of the Lustrells behave in such a man- 
ner!” 

Which, indeed, was most unlikely, for every 
domestic in the castle hated her and despised Sir 
Jasper, and were never inclined to do a hand’s 
stroke for them that was beyond the radius of 
actual duty, laid down and paid for as service. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


325 


The two women looked at each other in silence 
for a moment after this declaration, measuring 
swords, as it were, for the conflict. 

They were a strange contrast. 

Miss Lustrell, tall,^ony, severe, in prim black 
lutestring gown and stiff cap; Quinlan, in “com- 
pany dress,” donned in haste before she left Gar- 
rig-duve, which en passant it may be stated she 
did with the most complete want of ceremony, 
much to Mrs. O’Hara’s indignation. 

The Paisley shawl was a gift from the first 
Mrs. O’Hara, and had been present at all the 
^7eddings, christenings and festivities of the vil- 
lage for years past. She had put it on to do 
honor to “Miss Peg,” as she still called her, not 
because it or the purple merino gown, its accom- 
paniment, were suitable attire for a sick-room. 
Her apron and cap were in a paper parcel, which 
she was jealously guarding. 

“Well, ma’am?” she said, inquiringly, as 
Miss Lustrell still remained silent, “what more 
credentials do ye want?” 

“Oh, you can stay for a few days if you are 
so bent on it,” snapped that lady; “but it’s 
quite unnecessary — Lady Lustrell has every 
care and attention.” 

“I’m not doubtin’ that, ma’am; but, all the 
same; love can’t be bought like sarvice, and a 
lovin’ hand and a watchful eye are better than 
physic any day.” 

Miss Lustrell deigned no reply to so foolish 
a statement, but handed the old woman over 
to Molly, with the information that she could 


826 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


sleep in the little ante room while at the castle 
— Molly having herself taken the dressing-room 
so as to be within call night or day. 

The person who approved most of this ar- 
rangement was Dr. MacShamus. Molly was 
too young and impulsive, the maid too inex- 
perienced, and Miss Lustrell herself too selfish 
and unfeeling to be good nurses. ‘ Quinlan was 
just what was wanted; devoted, patient, watch- 
ful, untiring. 

The wiry frame, the quick eye, the gentle 
touch, were in themselves valuable aids to the 
treatment prescribed; and a sense of relief came 
with the very presence of the faithful old wo- 
man, as she took her place by the sick-bed, and 
gave her two subordinates to understand the 
routine to be observed henceforward. 

Still the patient’s progress was very slow, and 
for long clouds of uncertainty brooded heavily 
over the castle. 

Sir Jasper kept almost entirely in his own 
room, contenting himself with a daily inquiry 
as to his wife’s condition. Miss Lustrell took 
up her old place in the household, and badgered 
servants, and spied into cupboards’ and pantries, 
and screwed down every item of expenditure as 
if ruin were imminent. Molly grew pale and 
listless. The life was a dreary one for a young 
girl, and Paddy Kearney was away on duty, so 
she had no one to relieve the monotony of her 
existence. . ^ 

She and Quinlan struck up a great friendship, 
and her devotion to her mistress seerned to Molly 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


327 


at once the most beautiful and touching thing 
she had ever witnessed. 

Many a story and anecdote she heard from 
the old woman in those long hours v/heu there 
was nothing to do except watch and wait for 
some hopeful change. Many a quaint conceit 
and jest brought the smile to her lips and whiled 
away the tedium of the anxious, monotonous 
days that dragged their slow length into weeks, 
before one could assure the other that there was 
hope at last. 


3-^8 


PEG, THE RAKE, 


CHAPTER x:ax. 

f 

X 

TOUCHING THE BORDERLAND. 

“Quinlan,’’ said Molly one evening as the 
two sat in the room adjoining Miss Em’s, en- 
joying a cup of tea while the patient slept, 
“what was that Dwyer- was saying to you' this 
morning about the ‘Headless Coach’? Surely 
it hasn’t been seen again?” 

“Shure, Miss Molly, ’t was but servant’s gossip 
— nothing else at all.” 

“But you know, Quinlan, it does appear,” 
said the gid, anxiously. “I’ve heard of it ever 
since 1 was a child.” 

“Faith, darlin’, one hears many things wid 
sorra a wurrd o’ truth in thim.” 

“But you believe in the story, don’t you, 
Quinlan?” 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Miss Molly. 
There’s a power o’ sich like tales to be heard 
for the axin’. Folks about here is jist crammed 
wid thim. ’Tis at wakes and births and sich 
times they tells thim, just bj way o' cheerin’ up 


PEG, THE RAKE; 


329 


the company. As for the Headless Coach now 
—well, that’s a quare thing, Miss Molly, but 
’twas near the gates of Carrig-duve they’re after 
sayin’ it was seen. The saints presars^e us!” 
(And she crossed herself hurriedly.) “But may- 
be ’taint thrue. ’Twas Pat Mulligan who set 
the tale goin’, but shure he’s not much to be 
believed whin he’s the dram . o’ drink taken’ 
and as often as not that’s the time he sees 
things.” 

“A sign of death!” faltered Molly. “Quin- 
lan, I wonder why we’re all so frightened of 
death? We ought not to be, if v/e believe what 
\T 0 profess, that heaven is so much happier than 
earth!” 

“Ah, now, miss, don’t ye be troublin’ yer 
pretty head with sich rubbish!” exclaimed 
Quinlan, replenishing her cup with a genuine 
appreciation of the castle tea. 

“You’ve always lived here, Quinlan, haven’t 
you?” asked Molly presently. 

“Always, miss darlin’; I’ve nirer been more 
than ten miles beyant Carrig-duve since I was 
born.” 

“And never married?” 

“Thrue for ye, miss. 1 niver have. Not 
from want av offers, but I niver see the bhoy 
that I’d have cared to wed. An’ I’ve niver 
loved any livin’ craythure as I’ve loved me 
swate Miss Peg, God save her!” 

“She’s always been very good and kind, 
hasn’t she, Quinlan, and a favorite with every 
one?” 


330 


PEG, THE BAKE. 


“That she has!” said Quinlan, energetically. 
“An’ a hard life she’s had av it too for many 
years, 'as no one knows better than meself . Kept 
as poor as a beggar, and the very candles be- 
grudged her, not to mintion food and drink. 
Ko fault av her father, miss, an O’Hara 
always gave laun and vaula. * But that 
Mrs. O’Hara the second — shure, I’d better not 
be talkin’ o’ her, or me tongue will be runnin’ 
away wid me. So I’ll say no worse av her, 
miss, darlin’, than that she’d skin a flint an’ 
make soup av the . lavings, and that’s gospel 
thruth.” 

“Poor Miss Ein!” said Molly, thoughtfully. 
“And yet she was always so bright and cheer;f, 
and such good company.” 

“Maybe she’s payin’ for it now,” said Quin- 
lan, sadly. — “Hark, was that her spakin’?— Miss 
Molly, listen, listen, darlin’.” 

They both sprang to their feet, and grasped 
each other’s hands convulsively. 

The voice that reached them from the adjoin- 
ing room was the well-known voice, but the 
words — Oh, blessed change! — the words, weak 
and, "broken as they were, were rational and 
coherent at last. 

“Quinny, I’m sure I heard your voice; 
Quinny, come to me,” cried Miss Eni, very 
faintly. 

“The Lord of Heaven be praised, she’s mend- 


* Full and plenty. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


331 


in’ at last!” gasped the old woman, as with 
the great unheeded tears rolling down her 
cheeks she rushed into the room and fell 
down by the bedside in a paroxysm of thank- 
fulness and joy. 


332 PEG, THE KAKE. 


/f 


CHAPTER XXX. - . 

EDGED TOOLS. 

“’Twas a near thing, Miss Em,’^ said Dr. 
MacShamus a week later as he sat by the bed- 
side of his patient. 

She smiled faintly, more at the old nick- 
name which still clung to her than from any 
self - congratulation caused by the remark 
itself. 

“A mighty near thing,” he repeated; “and 
let me warn you that you’ll suffer the conse- 
qu,ences for a long time yet. Your only safe- 
guard is to live a perfectly natural, easy life. 
Xo false excitement, no strain on mind or brain. 
Thank God there’s no further need for it now ! 
You ought to have all you can wish for here, 
' and the quieter you live for some time the bet- 
ter.’’ 

“Will you let every one know that, doctor?” 
she said, eagerly. “Coming from you it would 
have a good effect; not be put down to mean- 
ness, or inability on my part. The more you can 
spread it about the better.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


333 


‘‘Oil! faith, ril do that for you,” said the 
doctor. “But why should you suppose people 
would be giving you the character of mean- 
ness at this time o’ the day? ’Tis quite the 
other way about/ You were always inclined 
too much for generosity, not to say extrava- 
gance.” 

She clasped her thin white hands convul- 
sively. “All my life,” she said, “I have 
wanted money, 1 have longed to be rich ; and 
now — ” 

“Well, you’ve got your wish,” said Dr. Mac- 
Shamus; “and what would you be flinging your 
money about for, entertaining other people? 
Shure, that’s just foolishness. Take care of 
yourself, and don’t stint yourself in anything 
you fancy. Above all, keep your mind free 
from worry. There’s nothing to fear he 

added, impressively, as he met her eye. 

A swift hot flush crept up to her temples. She 
made no reply. 

“Your position is safe; no one can harm you, 
however ill-natured they are, ” he went on. “I’m 
not saying that Sir Jasper is a very lively or a 
very devoted husband ; but y^u knew well enough 
what sort of a man you wero marrying, so that’s 
enough about it You’ve got to think of your- 
self now. Remember, I’m speaking very seri- 
ously. You’ve had a hard life, and you’ve lived 
it, you broke down at last. If ever such a thing 
happens again to you — ” 

He paused; his impressive clasp rested a mo- 
ment on her trembling hands. 


334 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Well?” she questioned, and her strange- 
ly bright eyes met his fearlessly. “I’m not 
afraid to hear the consequences ; what are 
they?” 

“You’^d go mad — or die,” he answered, 
gravely. 

There was a long, thoughtful pause. 

She broke it at last. 

“Tell me, doctor, did 1 ever say anything all 
that time you know, about — about — ” 

“Never a word,” he answered, quickly; “only 
nonsense about dresses and parties and ‘going 
nap,’ which I suppose you’ll be doing again as 
soon as you’re up and about. ’Tis only in books, 
you know, that the heroine lets out her love 
affairs and her mosk cherished secrets. We 
medical men know how close a hold the brain 
keeps on what affects the mind. People babble 
of all the nonsense imaginable-, as a rule, their 
real nature seems to get topsy-turvey. It’s a 
queer thing. The saintly ones take to swearing 
and bad language generally, and the bad ones 
to praying and psalm-singing, the clever ones to 
foolishness, and the foolish ones to learned dis- 
courses.” 

Miss Em gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad 1 
didn’t make a fool of myself. It’s been on my 
mind ever since I recovered my balance.” 

“Well, rest assured you’ve not betrayed an3’'- 
thing; and now I’m not going to stop here talk- 
ing any longer. It won’t do to excite you. 
Sleep as much as you can; that’s the medicine 
you need, and no gossiping with Quinlan jor 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


335 


Molly. On the whole,” he added, with a sly 
twinkle in his eye, “perhaps Miss Lustrell would 
be the best nurse for you — nDt so much tempta- 
tion to talk, eh?” 

Miss Em shuddered. “Oh, what a threat! I 
simply can’t endure her presence. Doctor,” 
she went on, hurriedly, “am I very much . al- 
tered by all this? Don’t think it’s vanity — in- 
deed, indeed it’s not. I know they’ve cut my 
hair off, and I suppose I look a queer object; 
but they won’t give me a glass to look at my- 
self, and I’ve been thinking there’s a reason 
for it.” 

“Reason? Pooh! What reason should there 
be?” scoffed the doctor. “Shure, you’ll be as 
handsome as ever when you get your flesh and 
your color again. Wait till you’re out of bed 
and then you can have your looking-glass. You 
feminine creatures are all alike. Miss Em. Van- 
ity — vanity!” 

A little wan smile hovered over the pale lips. 
“Are we? Then give me a hand-glass, doctor, 
or I shall think there is some very strong reason 
for your refusing.” 

He looked at her gravely, and his eyes grew 
a little misty before that thoughtful survey was 
ended. 

Then he went over to the dressing-table and 
brought an ivory handunirror from among the 
various objects of use or uselessness scattered 
there. 

Without a word he gave it her. One quick 
glance, and with a little sharp cry her hand went 


336 PEG, THE RAKE. ^ 

to her head, clutching its short soft curls with 
wondering horror. 

They were white as snow ! 

The quiet, monotonous days drifted by, each 
one bringing strength and calm to the long- 
taxed brain ; full of gentle tendence, of tiiought- 
ful care, of tireless devotion. Peace and tran- 
quillity alone breathed in the atmosphere of that 
room. 'No alien voice, no harsh intrusion, no 
disturbing suggestion of or from the outer world 
ever found entrance through those jealously 
guarded doors. 

The deepest and most restful pause Miss Em’s 
life had ever known was this time of conva- 
lescence, while the spring deepened into sum- 
mer and the warm and lovely air came through 
the open windows as she lay on her couch, rest- 
ing and dreaming, incapable of exertion, almost 
even of thought, content jiist to lie there and 
be nursed and cared for like a child. 

A deeper and more spiritual beauty had stolen 
into her expression. The worn, anxious look had 
left her; the white rings and ripples about her 
brow seemed to accentuate her dark eyes and 
lashes, her clear, colorle^ss skin looked almost 
transparent in its delicacy. 

Molly used to survey her with* admiring won- 
der. 

“You dear, lovely Cleopatra!” she exclaimed 
one day as she' stood surveying her, “age cer- 
tainly can't wither 5^ou, nor custom stale your 
charms. You are more beautiful than ever ! I 


PEG, THE RAKE. 3:37 

wish you could see what a picture you make in 
that pale blue gown.” 

Miss Em smiled at the girlish flattery. “Ah, 
Molly,” she said, “my day is over. I feel it at 
last. 1 used to think 1 never could get old — 
never be tired of life, excitement, gayety. But 
I’ve had my warning, dear; I’ve been so close 
to the borderland that something of its chill 
bre^ath is with me still. I’ve looked into mys- 
teries that I can’t forget. I’ll never be the wo- 
man I was — not that that is anything to regret, 
perhaps,” she added^ softly. 

Molly was silent. 

The “Miss Em” of the present was apt to 
startle her at times by the contrast with that 
gay, fun-loving, reckless spirit she had so long 
known. This quiet, dreaming woman with her 
deep sad eyes and grave smile was so totally 
different, that the change would have alarmed 
her, if it had not been accounted, for b}^ the nat- 
ure of her illness and the serious warnings of Dr. 
MacShamus; warnings which had made even 
Miss Sabina considerate, and Sir Jasper — neu- 
tral. 

Indeed, that expression best suits this admir- 
al;;le gentleman at this period. He was neutral 
in affection, feeling, behavior. He had decided, 
in the comparative loneliness of those past weeks, 
that his second experiment in matrimony had 
not been successful; but, in the first struggle for 
supremacy he had come out conqueror, and he 
meant to retain his position. 

This strange and unexpected illness of his 


338 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


wife’s had altered his plans for a time, but not 
the feeling that had led him to form those 
plans. It had modified their first harshness 
and intolerance, but had not placed her ac- 
tions or code of morals before him in a more 
favorable light. 

The position of Adventuress and Fool were the 
relative positions they held toward each other 
in his review of the situation. It was not a 
review that pleased his morbid, selfish nature. 
He had never adoi'ed women theoretically: his 
estimate of them was ton dow, and his mind 
too fastidious. It was impossible to reconcile 
such contradictory elements, so he permitted the 
exigencies- of nature, as interpreted by centuries 
of manly prejudice, to sway an}^ sentiment that 
had the misfortune to obtrude itself on his 
notice. When danger was over, and he knew 
that his wife’s position in his household and 
the county generally must be established on 
a decisive basis, ho held long and uncomfort- 
able debates with himself in order to arrive 
at a satisfactory decision wfith respect to that 
basis. 

That she should feel the curb he determined, 
but he had no desire now to call on others to wit- 
ness her humiliation. 

He felt sorry sometimes that he had asked his 
sister to return. Her rule was not comfortable, 
and her presence had in it something that was 
aggressively unfeminine to fastidious eyes But 
by having re-established her at the castle he had 
aimed the first blow at his wife’s independence, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


339 


and that was an achievement he would not again 
forego. 

Meanwhile, the long wearisome days dragged- 
themselves on. The old life with something bur- 
densome in its old monotony was his once morec 
His marriage seemed at times a dream, at times 
a memory, that roused him to savage irritation; 
at times a piece of folly which was unpardonable, 
though capable of excuse. 

The progress of the patient upstairs was now 
a steady progress from convalescence to health, 
and he had no longer any excuse for avoiding 
her, or postponing the explanation which both 
knew to be inevitable. 

He had decidkl upon the interview one bright 
sunny spring morning. 

There was something peculiarly suitable to his 
grim, ironical frame of mind in the contrast 
afforded by the beauty and peace and fragrance 
of the world without, and the warfare of human 
passions within. 

Miss Em lay on the couch in her dressing- 
room. She wore- a morning-robe (as yet tea.- 
gowns were not) of pale pink cashmere, the hue 
of a blush rose, some soft creamy lace was thrown 
ab^t her head, a few shades deeper than the 
snowy curls ■ clustering in profusion about her 
brow. A. faint, very faint flush on her cheeks, 
and -the most delicate accentuation of eyebrows 
were due to Quinlan’s advice and assistance, 
^ for she was desirous of her mistress looking 
her “very best”; having more than a suspi- 
cion in her own keen mind that Sir Jasper 


340 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


had not fully appreciated the treasure he had 
won, or treated her with the consideration she 
deserved. 

“’Tis all very well for Miss Peg, the darlin’, 
to be pretendin’ she doesn’t mind that Miss Lus- 
trell givin’ herself the airs av a mistress, but I 
have my own opinions on that point, ’ ’ she said 
to herself. “She was axed here before the poor 
sowl was taken ill, an’ I^d loike to have the fmd- 
in’ out av that reason, an’ I will, too, before I 
leave the castle. ’ ’ 

When Sir Jasper entered the room, however, 
she only curtsied respectfully and then with- 
drew, just turning as she reached the door to 
remind her mistress that in half an hour she was 
to take her “tonic-medicine.” 

Sir Jasper touched his wife’s extended hand, 
and then seated himself beside her. The win- 
dow was open, the blind partly drawn. A flood 
of sunshine bathed the outer terrace and gar- 
den, and lost itself in dim radiance where the 
great trees of the park stood in serried ranks, 
stretching out thick boughs and screening 
leafage for the noisy birds to rest and shel- 
ter in. 

The fragrance of flowers was in the air, the 
table beside the invalid held masses of them ar- 
ranged in bowl, or vase, by Molly’s hands every 
morning. 

Ill the stillness of the room the fragrance 
seemed almost oppressive. The monotonous 
buzz of an enterprising bee struck sharply on 
Miss Em’s attention ; that and the quick throbs 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


341 


of her heart were strangely audible to her ex- 
cited fancy. 

As she grew calmer she turned her eyes ex 
pectantly on his face. For the first time she 
seemed to recognize the hardness and cruelty of 
it beneath that thin veneer of courtliness. For 
the first time she recognized that she had given 
herself to this man, solely^ and entirely, and 
thrilled with a sudden quick apprehension of 
-the folly of her bargain. 

“They assure me you are quite strong again,” 
said Sir Jasper at last. He was surveying her 
critically, but without disapprobation. He had 
heard of the change in her hair, but this was the 
first time he had seen it. He confessed that it 
had only the effect of making her look distin- 
guished, and in no way aged her beyond her 
actual years . That this change might bring 
her into stronger similitude with himself and 
render the contrast between their ages less re- 
markable, flashed through his mind, and left 
behind it a certain satisfaction which, however, 
he had no intention of expressing. 

“Strong?” she said in answer to his remark; 
“well, hardly that yet. But I am on the way 
to health and strerigth, 1 hope.” 

“You are prepared, of course, for some ex- 
planation of my words on the occasion of our 
first evening here, ” he said, coldly. “1 am here 
to offer it, and at the same time to lay down the 
iTiles which are to regulate our future life to^ 
gether.” 

He saw the quick flush of apprehension rise 


342 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


and die away. It argued a sense of power to 
wound her that was in itself an incentive and a 
gratification. 

He leaned back in his chair, balancing his deli- 
cate finger-tips and watching her face intently 
beneath his lowered eyelids. 

“I say together', because in spite of your de- 
ception I do not choose to let the world know me 
as the dupe of an unprincipled woman.” 

“1 am not that,’’ she interposed, haughtily, 
the old pride and fierceness and impetuosity wak- 
ing as a soldier wakes at the cry of “battle, ” and 
rousing her to arms iTi self-defense. “My sins 
bear the excuse of youth and ignorance, never of 
actual vice. That I deceived you I grant, but 
you asked nothing of my past any more than 1 
did of yours. I gave you, perhaps^ a far better 
bargain than you had any right to expect. What 
degree of purity or single-mindedness does a man 
who has led your life, bring to a woman? What 
right has he to ask more from her than he can 
give in exchange?” 

“These are not points on which to argue with 
a woman,” answered Sir Jasper. “The same 
laws can never suit both sexes. At your time 
of life you must surely know that. You can’t 
expect me to believe you took me with any of 
the squeamishness of girlhood left in you.” 

She grew white to the lips. “I should not 
advise you to ask tvhy I took you,” she said, 
in a suppressed voice that vibrated with intense 
passion. “Yor to drive me too far by your 
method of regulating our position henceforward. 


PEG, THE RA.KE. 


343 


There have been times in my life, before this, 
when neither man, nor angel, nor devil could 
hold me back from what I had set my mind on 
accomplishing!” 

“That — 1 can well believe,” he said, with a 
curious chill smile hovering on his thin lips. 
“On- the whole, I’m not sure that 1 don’t ad- 
mire that side of your nature. It is dangerous, 
but interesting. It explains so much too ii^ the 
ingenuous confessions of — ‘Peg, the Rake.’ ” 

“Then you have that book in your possession !” 
exclaimed Miss Em, raising herself to a sitting 
position. “I know who sent it to you. Well, 
what do you intend to do?” 

His cold, keen glance held her fascinated yet 
rebellious; but that pride of race, so dominant 
within her, nerved her to defy, where a weaker 
and more cowardly woman would have fal- 
tered. “What do you intend?” said nothing 
of what she herself chose to agree to ; and again 
that sense of reluctant admiration fired the old 
baronet’s tepid blood, and set before him an em- 
ployment for future days and years that had the 
charm of novelty, and the zest of danger. 

“There is something of the tigress in all 
women who are worth caring for, ’’die thought, 
as he recognized the daring and defiance of this 
one. “It it3 a type I have always appreciated — 
at a safe distance !” 

Aloud he remarked: “My intentions with re- 
spect to our future attitude are based in a great 
measure upon the study of your character as por- 
trayed in this interesting record.” He drew out 


344 


PEG5 THE RAKE. 


an old, shabby, leather-covered pocketbook as he 
spoke, and began turning over the leaves with 
his thin wrinkled fingers. 

“It might almost be called the ‘Female Rake’s 
Progress, ’ ’ ’ he went on, ironically. “Asa study 
of some portions of feminine nature it is un- 
equaled. 1 really feel almost grateful for the 
opportunity it has afforded me of seeing below 
the surface of a woman who has done me the 
honor to marry me, sooner than destroy her 
femininity by being consistent to the end of 
her days.” 

He paused, but the lowered eyelids and tight- 
ly compressed lips at which he glanced gave no 
response. 

“Judging by this,” he went on, closing the 
book and tapping the cover emphatically, “I 
have arrived at a better understanding of your 
complex character than even years of marriage 
would have afforded. I learn that you are am- 
bitious of social success, that you love riches, 
that you have the sensuous female appreciation 
of ail things beavitiful and self-satisfying.” He 
glanced round the room as he spoke, taking in 
every alteration which a sense of artistic fitness 
had brought about, every detail of color and 
fragrance and beaut}" which surrounded the 
invalid. “Well,” he went on, slowly, “you 
wouldn’t be a woman if you had not these tastes 
in a greater or less degree. I cannot, of course, 
flatter niyself for a moment that you married 
me for any other reason than their complete 
gratification. It is, therefore, my intention to 


PUG, THE RAKE. 345 

oppose that gratification hy way of disciplining 
a character that is far from perfect.” 

Again he parsed. Again he looked for re- 
sponse, but the facepn the pillow neither changed 
nor winced. ' ' 

She might not have heard him at all for any 
sign she gave; but he saw her hands tremble 
where they rested amid the soft laces of her 
gown, and he knew that every cold and cruel 
phrase had hit its mark. 

“Discipline,” he went on, “is often the sal- 
vation of a reckless nature. This” — again he 
tapped the book emphatically —“this ‘Feg, the 
Rake,’ appears singularly unfortunate in her ut- 
terly bad training and complete lawless liberty. 
Perhaps it is somewhat late in^ the day for inter- 
ference, or any attempt to reform the evil of 
years. A young woman might be malleable 
and obedient ; but a woman of — forty-two — is it 
not? well, no matter, we needn’t be too exact, a 
woman of Lady laistrell’s age, will naturally be 
more difficult of management. However, I do 
not despair. You have achieved your ambition 
at last,” he went on more rapidly; “you are the 
owner of ^ name and position such as your young 
ambition coveted. But, having given them to 
you in ignorance of what you really were, I in- 
tend to modify the gift in my own way. I— I 
presume you are listening; yxm are not faint or 
asleep, are y ui?” 

The long lashes lifted theinselves as swiftly as 
if the passionate glance of the flashing eyes had" 
acted as a leverage to their restraining limits. 


346 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“No,” she said; “I am all attention.” 

“Thank you. In the first place, then, you 
will be to all real intents and purposes a mere 
cipher in the\ house you have entered as mis- 
tress. All orders will be given through my sis- 
ter, all entertainments 1 may deem necessary 
will be regulated and arranged by her; but you 
shall have the credit of them — that I am willing 
to grant.” 

“The credit of Miss Lustrell’s well-known bad 
taste and incompetency! Thank you, that is 
indeed an honor!” burst out Miss Em, scorn- 
fully. 

“It is honor enough for ‘Peg, the Rake,’ ” said 
Sir Jasper, icily. “But pray do not interrupt 
until I have finished. You will then be able 
to agree to, or refuse my terms. One of the 
laments in your beautifully frank confession is 
the constant want of money. Well, you doubt- 
less consider you will never need to raise that 
lament again. But I must inform you that the 
allowance you will receive will be merely suffi- 
cient for your dress — in fact, the same amount 
as I allow my daughter and my sister. This 
sum alone will you possess while Heaven grants 
me life and opportunity to enjoy my own wealth. 
At my death there will, of course, be a provision 
made for you, a provision that is solely and en- 
tirely dependent on one condition.” 

“And that?” 

' “Surely you can guess. No? Well, the con- 
dition is that you never marry the man called 
Denis Morrison! Ah, have I hit you at last?” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


347 


“Hit me?” she raised her white face, so proud 
and beautiful in its calm defiance, that narrow- 
minded vengeance and bitter spite sank abashed 
like noxious things that felt their own foulness. 
“No,” she said, quietly; “you have not hit or 
hurt me, as ' you imagine. What . if I tell you 
that so far from ever marrying Denis Morrison, 
1 would not for all the world might offer accept, 
him now? What if 1 told you that the very 
night before my marriage with you, he used 
every argument and persuasion to induce me 
to become his wife, and I refused? Refused 
wealth beside which your mortgaged fortunes 
sink into insignificance; refused the only love 
1 ever returned in all my wasted, reckless life! 
You look incredulous; you don’t believe me. I 
tell you it is gospel truth ! I could have made 
you the laughing stock of the county; have seen 
you bite the dust as the old jilted fool that even 
I — I the woman you call Peg, the Rake — would 
not condescend to marry! I could have done 
this, and yet, I withheld my hand. I sent away 
the only man I have ever loved and took you 
for my husband! You!” — she laughed aloud. 
“They say there is madness in the O’Hara 
blood, you know; surely the taint of it was in 
me then!” 

She threw herself back ; a loud, clear peal of 
laughter rang through the room. “Will you 
put that clause in your will, now?” she said, 
and laughed again. 

He sprang to his feet white with rage and 
maddened by her mockery. At the same instant 


348 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the door was hastily opened, and Quinlan ap- 
peared. 

-‘Lord bless us and save us! Miss Peg darlin’, 
y()u shouldn’t be excitin’ yerself in this fashion. 
Sir Jasper, sir, axin’ yer parding, what’s the 
matter wid herself, at all, at all?” 

“Oh, I’m all right, Quinny,” said Miss Em, 
calming voice and face by a strong effort. “1 
was only laughing at something Sir Jasper was 
telling me; it was so entertaining. All the 
same, I am a little tired. You’ll excuse my 
sending you away. Sir Jasper, won’t you? but 
I’m afraid I must.” 

She waved a playful dismissal as he turned 
abruptly away. 

“And now, Quinlan, my tonic,” she said. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


349 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. 

. don’t believe her; I don’t believe a word 
of it,” muttered Sir Jasper, pacing to and fro 
his study in a fury that had no outlet. “She 
loves that man — she confessed it — and if T died 
to-iiiorrow she would marry him. If he had 
been as well off as she says, she would have 
jumped at his offer, especially after — ” 

His thoughts broke off. He, looked about in 
sudden bewilderment, and his hand went to the 
breast-pocket of his coat. 

He uttered one word. It was a strong one. 
Then commenced a f;*uitless search in every’ 
pocket, and among the papers on his study 
table. 

“I’ve left it in her hands! What a fool I am! 
Yes, it must have fallen and I never noticed. 
There’ll never be a chance of getting it again 
she’ll take good care of that, and there’s only 
'my word against hers now. I’ve lost my trump 
card. Confound these women ! why did I ever 
meddle, with one again? Hadn’t I lesson 
enough?” 

He sank down beside the table, spent and 


350 PEG, THE RAKE. 

trembling now his rage was over. “It was all 
so foolish after all, so exhausting, and in such 
ba(L taste ; and a woman always got the best of 
it — somehow.” 

He sighed heavily; regret at his own failure 
was tantamount to remorse. He was sorry now 
he had risked a scene. But who would have 
calculated on the tables being turned on him in 
this fashion. 

“In any case they shall not meet or speak 
while she’s under my roof,” he resumed, pres- 
ently; “I’ll make that a condition, and I’ll take 
good care it’s kept. She must account for every 
hour of absence either to Sabina or myself. For 
the rest — well, her pride will have to give in. 1 
shall enjoy seeing her ‘do the honors’ at our 
first dinner-party.” 

He sat there through the hot bright noon, 
brooding over his past life, and vainly trying to 
shape his present. A cold feeling of fear and 
aversion came over him as he pictured those 
wild defiant eyes, and heard again the echoes of 
that strange laughter. Suppose Fate chose to 
play him that trick? Suppose the wild strain 
in the O’Hara blood leaped into sudden mad- 
ness? The shame and horror of the thought hell 
him there spellbound till he almost fancied he 
heard the slow, cautious step, and the noiseless 
approach of the Thing that calls itself Insanity! 
In his home, about his hearth, ready to spring 
out of shadow and silence this lurking terror 
appalled him by the very possibility of its ad- 
vent. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


351 


He had had his warning once. It seemed to 
have sprung to life again in the shape of Mem- 
ory. The memory of one woman framing the 
desperation of another affected his peace of mind 
and was therefore to be avoided. But such 
avoidance means something more than a mere 
effort of will; and he made that discovery at 
last. 

“ITl not risk another scene,” he said; “I’ve 
told her what I mean to do. If she is wise she 
will submit. It is to her advantage, so doubt- 
less she will.” 

Miss Em, taking counsel with herself after 
he had left her, came to that conclusion also. 
It was decidedly best to submit up to a certain 
point. She must not let the daylight of the 
world’s knowledge into this darkened chamber. 
She must keep her skeleton well under lock and 
key, and let no rattle of chains betray its pres- 
ence. 

The effect of the interview with Sir Jasper 
had soinewhat retarded her progress. Her nerv- 
ous system was still too unstrung to bear excite- 
ment or any strong call upon its forces. 

The quick eye of Quinlan noted this imme- 
diately, and her opinion of Sir Jasper as a hus- 
band grew more and more unfavorable. 

It took all her skill and tact to soothe her 
mistress again, and avert the threatened hys- 
teria. 

It was while employed in alternately soothing 
and scolding that the old woman’s foot struck 


352 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


against something on the floor close to the conch. 
She bent down to discover what it was, and lifted 
the old leather pocketbook to light, which had 
fallen from Sir Jasper’s hand when he sprung 
up at that startling peal of laughter from his 
wife’s lips. He had been too perturbed to no- 
tice its loss. Quinlan gave it to her mistress 
unconscious of its importance, ,and the vivid 
flush of joy in Miss Em’s face was a revelation 
to her. 

“My book!” she cried. “Oh, I’ve got it 
again, thank Heaven! Oh, Quinny, what a 
stroke of luck! He can’t hurt me now; he’s 
got no proof. ’ ’ 

Quinlan looked puzzled. “Proof, Miss Peg, 
darlin’? And what proof wud he be wantin’ at 
all? Shure, isn’t it yerself is a thousand times 
too^good for the likes av him? Proof? proof av 
what? Is it certificates av birth and baptism 
as well as marriage lines that people are after 
wantin’ nowadays? Faith, the wurrld is goin’ 
topsy-turvy, I’m thinkin’.” 

Miss Em laughed, and hugged her recovered 
treasure to her bosom with quite childish rapture. 
“No, no, Quinny dear; it’s only my old book 
I asked you about. The one I left behind me 
at Carrig'duve. Oh, Quinny! if you had only 
found it in time what a world of trouble I’d have 
been saved!” 

“And was they sich important documents. 
Miss Peg, darlin’? Shure, me tongue will 
niver remirnber to call you ‘my lady.’ ” 

“Yes,” said Miss Em, thoughtfully; “im- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


353 


portant enough to ruin my whole life hence- 
forward.” 

“Ah, now, darlin’, don’t be after sa5dn’ that; 
shure, ’tis no great sin lies at yer door bey ant 
jist a little divilment an’ foolishness when ye 
were young an’ the beauty av the place. Small 
wonder at that, either, seein’ the way the young 
men was after yez. An’, shure, the little bit av 
a trick ye played yer father was , nothin’ so bad 
neither. Didn’t we all know that it was with 
Dr. MacShamus ye were all the time, and wasn’t 
it the masther hisself as brought ye home, ji.st 
as wild an’ full av yer nonsince and wickedness 
as iver?” 

The hot, pained flush deepened in Miss Em’s 
white face. She did not meet the old woman’s 
kindly gaze, or give any response, but a sigh- 
long, quivering, full of pain remembered, of joy 
foregone. Then she sank back among the soft 
cushions Molly bad arranged for her comfort, 
and closed her eyes. 

“I’m so tired, Quinny,” she said. “Draw 
down the blinds and I’ll try to sleep for an hour. 
Don’t let any one disturb me.” 

When Quinlan looked in an hour later she 
found her mistress sleeping as peacefully as a 
little child, the old worn pocketbook still clasped 
in one hand. 


It was late in the afternoon before Miss Em 
woke, refreshed and invigorated by that deep, 
restful slumber. The room was full of tranquil 


854 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


shade and sweet fragrance, and in her hand was 
safely clasped her recovered treasure. 

As she stirred and lifted her hand the soft flut- 
ter of a skirt came through the quiet room, and 
Molly appeared. 

“ What a long sleep !” she said. “And you’ve 
had no luncheon. You must take some jelly 
and champagne at once ; Quinlan left it ready 
for you.” 

“Where is she?” asked Miss Em, surprised 
that such attendance as this was relegated to any 
one else. 

Molly colored and hesitated. “I’m sorry to 
say she has had to go back, ’ ’ she faltered. 

“To' go back! Do you mean to say she has 
returned to Carrig-duve, and in this planner, 
without even saying good-by?” 

“Well, dear, you see she really couldn’t help 
it. She was sent for. Some one’s ill there, and 
they want her.” 

“Is it Mrs. O’Hara?” asked Miss Em, eager- 
ly. “She’s always complaining, yet she will 
never see a doctor, or take any remedies.” 

Molly had turned to the little table, and was 
busy opening the pint bottle of champagne. 

“I believe it was your stepmother,” she said. 
“But it was all so hurried, and poor Quinlan 
was so distressed that there was some confusion. 
I sent her back in the jingle that they sent, and 
if things are not very serious she will return to- 
morrow.” 

Miss Em looked searchingly at the girl’s face 
as she came nearer, with the wine in her hand. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


o5o 


Molly/’ she said, abruptly, “is this the 
truth? Are you sure it wasn’t your father 
who sent her away?” 

“My father!” exclaimed the girl; “why, he 
doesn’t even know she has gone. Dear Miss 
Em, whatever put such a strange idea into your 
head?” 

“1 don’t know; I only thought perhaps he 
didn’t like her coming here so unceremoniously ; 
and as I am so much better, there really is no 
need for her to remain.” 

“Come, drink your wine and don’t worry,” 
said Molly. “You are in my hands now, you 
dear old lady, and I’m going to be a very strict 
nurse. ” 

Miss Em held out her hand and pressed the 
girl’s soft fingers. “I do think you’re fond of 
me, Molly,” she said. 

“Fond of you! I should just think 1 was! I 
told you that when you spoke to me about marry- 
ing papa. Only I don’t waiit to call you ‘mother, ’ 
if you don’t mind. Somehow, 1 couldn’t; you’ll 
be always ‘Miss Em’ to me, you know.” 

“yCall me anything you like, dear child, only 
don’t cease to love me, Molly. A young, fresh 
affection means so much to my old jaded heart. 
And promise me you’ll always believe the best 
of me, whatever you may hear; will you?” 

“There never can be anything but the ‘best of 
you’ for me to hear,” said the girl, warmly. 
“J’ll promise you that I won’t believe it if there 
is.” 

Miss Em drank the champagne slowly, and 


356 


PEG, THE RAKE 


made no i-emark. Molly drew up the blinds 
now, and the warm sunset glow flooded the 
room with its soft radiance. 

“There! that’s more cheerful,” she said, in 
her sweet, coaxing voice. “How much better 
you look! Why, you’ll soon be able to come 
downstairs again, and we can begin to wake 
up this old ‘Castle Grim’ as we promised.” 

All the color died out of Miss Em’s face. 

“Ho, tny dear, no,” she said, feebly; “I shall 
never be able to do that now. The will and the 
power have gone from me. For my own sake, 
I don’t regret it; but for yours — ” 

“Will, indeed!” burst forth Molly, impetu- 
ously. “And if you think I’m going to let 
you tumble down into an old woman you never 
were more mistaken in your life. Why,' once 
you’re about you’ll be as bright and gay as 
ever you were; and I prophecy a rare good time 
for Castle Lustrell yet!” 

Miss Em smiled a somewhat tremulous smile 
— one -that made Molly inclined to lay her head 
down in her lap and cry. It was so pathetic, 
and so unlike that bright and cheerful smile 
which she had so long known. 

“I wish,” said Miss Em, slowly, “that your 
prophecy may come true. Molly, why doesn’t 
Paddy Kearney get your father’s Consent to 
your marriage? He knows you care for each 
other.” 

“Paddy is so poor,” said Molly, ruefully; “if 
he were only rich papa wouldn’t hesitate. As 
it is”— and she sighed as the “maiden all for- 


PEG, THE RAKE 


357 


lorn’’ she deemed herself — “I suppose we must 
just wait and wait until we have worn out his 
patience. I have told him I shall never marry 
any one else. 1 often think, ’ ’ she added, thought- 
fully, “that it was Aunt Sabina who set him 
against Paddy. They hate each other! But 
you, dear Miss Em,” she added, suddenly, “you 
will be able to talk papa over. You can influ- 
vence him so, and — ” 

“I!” The sharp, harsh cry startled Molly, 
and she looked in surprise at the drawn, changed 
face. “I have no influence. You mistake; 1 
can do nothing,” Miss Em went on, hurriedly. 
“Something — something you will never know, 
Molly, has altered my position here. I may 
seem the mistress of Castle Lustrell, but 1 am 
only a cipher. The part I play is but a stage 
part. I can’t tell you more. I— I never meant 
to tell you this ; but you would soon have found 
it out, and better you should know at once. 
Your aunt will be the real mistress, Molly; I — I 
am only--” 

“Hush.^” said the girl, almost sternly; “I 
won’t hear you lower yourself, dear Miss Em. 
If things are as you say 1 — I shall never appear 
to notice it. All the honor and- respect that 
should be given to you as Lady Lustrell I will 
give, and make others give.. We will fight to- 
gether, if it is to be war; stand together, if it is 
to be defense. The household all love me, and 
for my sake they shall love you. Not one iota 
of dignity shall you lose, I can promise that, and 
you will find I am right. As for Aunt Sabina” 


358 PEG, THE RAKE 

— she drew her slight young form to its full 
height, and flashed defiance with her glowing 
eyes, “she will have two against her now; let 
her do her worst.” 

The color and warmth came back to Miss Em’s 
face. The situation suited her exactly; and a 
thrill of the old defiant spirit ran through her 
veins; but the day had passed for that; she felt 
it now, as curbed and restrained by sad hopeless-' 
ness the momentary passion died out, leaving 
her cold and passive. 

“Dear child,” she said, softly, “you mean all 
you say, I am sure; but, believe me, submis- 
sion — outward submission — is best; and don’t 
flourish our alliance in' their faces, Molly, it 
would only lead to fresh troubles. They might 
part us, and then — ” 

Her voice broke, she looked lovingly at the 
beautiful young face. “I shall never have a 
child of my own to love, and they say without 
that no woman’s life is complete; but no child 
could be dearer to me than you are, Molly, and 
to lose you would almost break my heart. I 
could give you to the man you love, I could bear 
to see yon leave me a liappy wife, blessed in the 
devotion of a good man’s life; but I could not 
bear to know you were sent away from here 
because — because I loved you.” 

“iN’o one could do that, dear Miss Em; my 
father wouldn’t be so cru^l, even though he is 
jealous; and as for Aunt Sabina — ” 

“How do you know your father is jealous?” 
questioned Miss Em, sharply. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


359 


“Oh, I have learned it in a hundred ways. 
He likes to be first and foremost in the affec- 
tions of any one he cares for; he would neve. 
show that he was jealous of your loving me, 
but he would make you feel it ; he has always 
been like that.” 

Miss Em remained silent and thoughtful. She 
was thinking of that clause in Sir Jasper’s will. 
In Molly’s unconscious words she read its rea^ 
meaning. 


360 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXXIl. 

THE HEADLESS COACH. 

The summons to Carrig-duve had been^ im- 
_ perativ0 enough to alarm Quinlan, and ^render 
the call of loyalty more imperative than that 
of affection. For it was her master who lay 
at death’s door, stricken down suddenly by that 
worst foe of age —paralysis. 

The stroke had been swift and without any 
^ sort of premonition; and Mrs. O’Hara, who was 
something of the “braggart in peace and coward 
in war” type, was terrified out of her wits, and 
dispatched'messengers -for Dr. MacShamus and 
Quinlan, and even telegraphed to her arch-foe, 
Miss Bedelia, without loss of time. 

The whole house was in confusion when Quin- 
lan arrived. The Irish servant whom she had 
left behind her could only express herself as 
“that moithered^ she couldn’t be afther tellin’ 
what to do an’ what to lave.” And to simplify 
that condition of mind she proceeded to “lave” 
everything, and wander about the house with 
her apron to her eyes, calling on all the saints 


PEG. THE RAKE. 


361 


in the calendar of her memory to be merciful to 
the house and its occupants. 

Quinlan took the helm and proceeded to right 
affairs with all promptness. The dejection and 
submission of Mrs. O’Hara were matters of 
wonder to her, but she refrained from noticing 
them specially. 

A talk with Dr. MacShamus convinced her 
that there was every cause for alarm, and she 
braced herself for the situation with all the cour- 
age and devotion that a loyal Irish servant un- 
doubtedly possesses. 

So little could be done. The old man lay like 
a lo^, unconscious of anything around him. 
Save for the heavy, stertorous breathing one 
would not have known he lived. 

The night fell, but his condition remained un- 
changed. 

Quinlan announced her intention of sitting up 
with him, but Mrs. O’Hara declared she would 
share the watch. The old woman was none too 
pleased at the companionship, and gave very 
brief response to her mistress’s efforts at con- 
versation. 

She had a rooted conviction that Mrs. O’Hara 
wanted to “pump” her respecting Castle Lustrell 
and its affairs, and she was determined to give 
her no satisfaction on these points. 

In order, however, to keep up the dignity of 
the family she was scrupulously exact in speak- 
ing of Miss Em as “my lady,” or Lady Lustrell, 
the more so as her keen eye detected that this 
was extremely annoying to her listener. _ 


362 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Mrs. O’Hara at last changed the conversation 
abruptly. 

“I wish, Quinlan,” she said after a pause, 
‘‘that you would stop this idle gossip in the 
kitchen about the thing they call the ‘Headless 
Coach.’ It’s ridiculous the way they’ve been 
going on about it. Bridget flatly refuses to go 
on an errand after dusk, and the boy is nearl}’’ 
as bad.” 

Quinlan crossed herself hastily. “Masha, 
ma’am, and why wouldn’t the}^ be frightened? 
Well they know what it manes; shure, ’tis ver}^ 
well for you to be sayin’ it’s nonsense; mayhe 
ye have no raisin to fear, not bein’ a rale 
O’Hara, but whin the quality gits a warnin’ 
av that sort, ’tis a sarious thing, let me tell 
ye.” 

“Well, I don’t believe these superstitions,” 
said Mrs. O’Hara, sharply; “the Banshee, and 
the White Lady, and the Headless Coach, they’re 
all imaginary and all nonsense. ’ ’ 

“Shure, ye've no call to believe in thim,” 
snapped Quinlan, touched in her tenderest point 
by such criticism of valued superstitions; “but 
any one who has lived in the good ould families 
knows that sich warnings do come to thim; and 
as for the coach — ” 

“Hush!” said Mrs O’Hara, suddenly, “what 
was that — wheels? . . . and at this time of 
night. It can’t be the doctor again— or Miss 
O’Hara?” 

“Whist wid ye?” cried Quinlan, turning white 
as death; “faith, and ’tis jist bringin’ a judgmint 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


363 


on the house perhaps ye are, wid yer scoffin’ an’ 
hay thin principles.” 

They both listened intently. The night was 
very still, scarce a breath of air was stirring ; 
and distinctly audible in that stillness was the 
sound of wheels coming slowly up the avenue. 
Mrs. O’Hara sprang to her feet, and going to 
the window threw it open and looked out. A 
strange, stifled cry escaped her. 

“My God! Quinlan ! — What is it?” 

Shaking in every limb the old woman followed 
her, and they stood side by side watching the' 
strange weird vehicle approach— a black hearse- 
shaped carriage, drawn by four horses, whose 
feet made no sound, and whose heads were 
muffied in some shroud-like drapery. 

The full clear light of the moon shone on the 
strange thing, and showed it with startling clear- 
ness to the terrified eyes of the two women. 

At the great entrance door it paused. The 
noiseless steeds stood stilly their strange, muffied 
head-gear distinctly visible. Then the driver 
lifted his head; and a skeleton face, with the 
moonrays lighting its ghastly outlines, looked 
straight up at the window of Mrs. O’Hara’s 
room.* 

With a wild scream she fell to the floor in a 
dead faint; but Quinlan, instead of attending 
to her, rushed over to the bedside of her master, 
A.S she looked at the motionless form a strange 


* This Irish superstition is vouched for by an eye-wit- 
ness of the event described. - 


364 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


gray shadow flickered over the face. There was 
a faint quiver of the closed lids, a fainter sigh 
from the white lips, and the last of the male line 
of O’Haras had passed into his rest. 

“ Wisha ! wisha ! an’ how shall I tell Miss Peg ? 
Shure, ’twill nigh kill her, and she scarce re- 
covered from sickness herself,” lamented Quin- 
lan. 

The terrible night was over. The bright sun- 
shine streamed into the desolate rooms despite 
closed blinds. 

A great peace and quiet reigned .everywhere. 

Dr. MacShamus had ordered Mrs. O’Hara to 
keep her bed. She was still suffering from the 
shock of the preceding night, and passive as a 
lamb in any one’s hands. 

“How shall I tell Miss Peg at all, at all?” 
That was Quinlan’s one thought, whether ex- 
pressed or not. 

The doctor could not help her. 

He had a horror of scenes and of what is called 
“breaking the news.” Long acquaintance with 
female nerves and female nature hqd not hard- 
ened him. Their way of taking sorrow, whether 
pathetic, stony, or hysterical, w^as always trying 
to witness. He therefore made no suggestion, 
such as Quinlan hoped, but simply advised her 
to drive over to Castle Lustrell with the least 
possible delay, for “ill news flies apace” in Ire- 
land, where the very crows must carry infor- 
mation, so swiftly does it travel from place 
to place. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


365 


The administration of a soothing draught to 
Mrs. O’Hara promised a few hours’- respite ; and 
leaving Bridget in charge, Quinlan some half- 
hour later took her place in the jingle Dr. Mac- 
Shamus had ordered, and was driven to the 
castle in the usual break-neck fashion of Irish 
drivers. 

“Well, glory be to God I’m alive, an’ that’s 
all!” she exclaimed as she at last reached her 
destination. “Pat, ye young omadhaun, it’s a 
good batin’ ye want, drivin’ that poor craythur 
for all the wurrld as av yez was race-coorsin’ in 
Cork, an’ me bones that stiff and sore from want 
av me night’s rest Av ye takes me back like 
yez brought me, I’ll just lay the information a: 
yer father’s, an’ sorra a bit will he be trustin’ 
ye wid that horse agin, lave alone the jingle, 
though, faith, ’tis evin worse than ould Jack 
Cotter’s.” 

The boy grinned approvingly. “That’s thrue 
for ye, ma’am,” he said. “ ’Tis jist a wonder 
that it houlds togither. But it makes a foine 
match for tha harness, anyway.” 

^^HarnessP^ scoffed Quinlan j “arrah now, is 
it harness yer after callin’ it? Thim bits o’ rope 
and sthraps o’ leather! foine harness, an’ the 
poor baste knows it Shure, he only stays in- 
side thim shafts out av peril teness. There’s 
divil a. bit o’ sthrap wud kape him unless he’d 
a mind to be kept, havin’ been so long in the 
fartiily. ” 

The boy only laughed, and steered his animal 
round to the stable-yard, in lively expectation of 


366 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


a feed for both, though the castle of late years 
had not been, famous for any sort of hospitality. 

Meanwhile, with beating heart and trembling 
limbs, Quinlan entered the hall and asked to see 
Molly. 

She felt she could not face Miss Em with her 
bad tidings just at first. 

The girl came tripping down the wide shallow 
stairs looking as radiant as the morning. 

“You’ve come back! oh, I’m so glad. Then 
it wasn’t serious after all? Why— Quinlan?” 

The sad look and tearful eyes of the old wo- 
man spoke of some fatality, and checked her 
light words. 

“What is it?” she gasped. 

“It’s — the master himself, miss dear,” faltered 
Quinlan. “Shure, he’s been taken— God rest his 
sowl ! An’ how am I to tell Miss Peg? Shuie,^ 
’twill go nigh to kill her. They were that fond 
o’ one another always — and the suddenness av 
it.” 

“What was it?” asked Molly sympathetically ; 
“accident or illness?” 

‘ ‘ Shure, ’twas both, Miss Molly dear. A stroke, 
the doctor calls it, an’ he uiver spoke nor stirred 
a limb till the call came, and thin ’twas jist a 
sigh, an’ as paceful as a babe that sinks to slape. 
Ah, wisha, wisha! ’tis a bad day for Carrig- 
duve. He was the kind gintleman and the good 
master, and sad it is to think av the ould place 
goin’ to strangers, for, shure, Mrs. O’Hara 
hasn’t the falin’s nor the ways of the family 
at all ; not but what the poor woman’s in a sad 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


367 


way wid the shock, and the grief, and one thing 
wid another. But there I go runnin’ off wid 
talkin’ this an’ the other, and Miss Peg waitin’ 
to hear. Is she fairly well this mornin’, miss? 
How did she slape, the darlin’?” 

“Very well, I think,” answered Molly. “1 
was in the dressing-room all night, and I never 
heard a sound from her, and she told me this 
morning she felt much better.” 

“Ah, may the heavens be yer bed, miss, that’s 
good news; though how she’ll be whin I tell her 
this — ” 

“She knows you’re here, Quinlan,” interrupted 
Molly; “for Dwyer came to tell me when 1 was 
in her room, so the sooner you go to her the bet- 
ter. She’ll be wondering what we are talking 
about. Poor Mr. O’Hara,” she added; “he 
seemed such a dear old gentleman.” 

“Ah! thrue for ye, miss, he was that, but it’s 
a bad time he’s had av it one way an’ another. 
The mistress — well, ’tis well known that she 
has the timper, an* not his sowl could he call 
his own these many years. Howsoradiver, I’ll 
not be gossipin’ here any longer, miss. -Shure, 
’tis a hard task I’ve got before me; the Lord 
lend me strength 1” . 


368 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

COUNTER-PLOTTING. 

Spring and summer, seedtime and harvest had 
run their course for one brief year. 

It seemed long enough to the Lady of Castle 
Lu^streli — a period of dullness, dreariness, and de- 
pression such as she had never known, But dull 
and uneventful as the months had been, they had 
brought with them health and strength, and such 
measure of restfulness as she could not but rec- 
ognize as beneficial. 

In a way, too, Fate had_ played into her hands. 
Sir Jasper’s intention to humiliate her had signal- 
ly failed. The state of her health was quite suffi- 
cient reason for Miss Sabina’s re-appearance; 
and when Lady Lustrell explained to the house- 
hold, with a gracious dignity all her own, that 
she must waive tho privilege of direction and 
give the control of domestic affairs to her sister- 
in-law, not one of the servants thought it in 
any way strange, although they disapproved 
strongly of the arrangement. 

The death of Mr. O’Hara had been a great 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


369 


shock to his only child, and for a time she had 
been quite prostrate with grief, and Dr. Mac 
Shamus almost expected a recurrence of the 
brain trouble. But she rallied once more, and 
then followed months of enforced and absolute 
retirement that in themselves explained to- the 
county generally the reason of Lady Lustrell’s 
withdrawal from all society. Not a soul ever 
suspected what good cause' she had to be grate- 
ful for such explanation. 

Miss Lustrell herself could not be blind to the 
fact that the relationship between husband and 
wife was of the most strained description. The 
ordinary civilities of life alone passed between 
them, and even these were savored by bitter 
ironies, and cynical innuendoes on the part of 
the old baronet. But the skill and tact which 
long practice had made habitual enabled Miss 
Em to ignore the sense of inferiority which was 
being forced upon her. 

Again and again she had come out conqueror 
from these passages of arms, and Sir Jasper felt 
that she was so, and grew more bitter and more 
resentful. She obeyed every injunction, and 
seemed to carry out every wish, and yet he 
knew that in spirit she thwarted each, and by 
a hundred subtle methods avoided his tyranny. 

With the passage of time some of the old bright- 
ness and light-heartedness seemed 'to come back 
to her ; only she herself knew of the transform- 
ing change that at times showed her the old nat- 
ure — its hopes ruined, its pleasures destroyed, its 
strength enfeebled. 


‘ 670 ' 


PEG, THE PvAKE. 


Every new shock of humiliation added bitter- 
ness to the growing hatred -she felt for her hus- 
band. It was a hatred distilled from poison- 
seeds of wounded pride and self-effacement; a 
hatred which she feared^ for its intensity was 
almost prophetic of active results. 

But the long, dark desolate year was over, and 
the castle might at last throw off its cloak of 
mourning. 

Miss Sabina had hinted at this, and observed 
that the refusal of invitations by no means re- 
leased the recipients from obligations connected 
with their return. 

Sir Jasper listened to these remarks with some 
of his old grim humor. Probably there would 
be a fight between the two women at last. He 
was prepared to encourage one. 

However, there was no discernible shade of 
difference in Miss Em’s manner. She merel}" 
said a dinner-party to include every one respon- 
sible for the long list of unaccepted invitations 
would be rather a formidable undertaking. 

“Oh! let us have a ball!” cried Molly, eager- 
ly ^ “A real big proper ball in the old ballroom. 
Something to which every one can come, and 
which will sweep them all off the lists of ‘to be, 
or not to be’ — invited.” 

' Her father looked at her with frowning brows. 

“A ball, indeed! Do you suppose I’m going 
to have the whole place turned upside down to 
please youf^ Then he glanced sharply at his 
wife. “Has Lady Lustrell no suggestion to 
offer?” he asked, with frigid politeness.' 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


371 


Miss Em gave a scarcely perceptible shrug of 
her shapely shoulders. 

“ No, ” she said with perfect indifl^6rence ; “you 
must arrange it between yourselves. I see no 
particular reason for burning incense before the 
shrine of popularity. We have accepted noth- 
ing. I imagined we were to continue as we had 
begun.” 

Sir Jasper leaned back in his chair and sur- 
veyed her critically. 

The discussion was taking place at breakfast- 
time. 

“Now I wonder what the deuce she means?” 
he reflected. “If I thought she would rather 
evade a public recognition of her new dignity, 
I should insist upon it.” 

Miss Sabina looked from one to the other and 
pursed up her thin lips significantly. “Of 
course,” she said, “if neither of you wish to 
keep up the reputation of the castle I have no 
more to say on the subject. It would be a great 
expense saved.” 

“That,” said Miss Em, “should decide the 
question at once.” 

“It does,” said Sir Jasper, his thin, delicate 
face flushing faintly. “We will give the ball, 
and ask every one.” 

“Miss Lustrell will, of course, arrange the de- 
tails,” saidJMiss Em, with perfect indifference. 
“I. don’t care to undertake such a responsibil- 
ity.” 

“ We could manage the supper in the house,”’ 
said Miss Sabina, thoughtfully. 


372 


PEG, the: rake. 


“With such a cook!” flashed out Miss Em. 
Then she colored, and, with her usual readiness 
of resource, said, playfully: “It would be a 
praiseworthy experiment. She might have 
Quinlan to assist, if you think it advisable.” 

“Certainly not,” snapped Sir Jasper. “I 
don’t choose to have any one else’s servants 
interfering in my kitchen. What the cook 
can’t manage must be ordered from' Dublin. 
See to that, Sabina.” 

He rose, apparently unobservant of his sister’s 
look of dismay, and Molly’s smiles of delight. 
As for his wife, her face was as inexpressive as 
a block. She had learned of late to make it so, 
and he chafed at her success. This sleepy-eyed 
indifference to all that was passing around her 
was delusive he knew, but he could not combat 
it except by personal affront, and, as 5^et, he 
hesitated to offer that. 

His first anger at her deception toward him 
was in some degree mollified by the docility with 
which she had accepted his orders, and the obedi- 
ence she never failed to display to any expressed 
wish. But in his heart a lurking jealousy 
gnawed cruelly and incessantly. 

Jealousy of herself, her thoughts, her spirit — 
which might bow but never break — her ready 
wit, her ability to seem gay, amused, indifferent, 
defiant, as the fancy seized her. 

“She has a demon in her to match flie wor.st 
man that ever lived, I believe,” was his verdict, 
after a year of watchfulness and coercion. But 
he knew that demon would always escape him., 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


373 


and was never quite safe to arouse, since chain 
and weapon were taken out of his hands. He 
could not, for his own credit’s sake, rake up an 
old scandal, more especially one that in no way 
reflected on his credit, or added to his dignity. 
There lay the secret of her real supremacy, that 
uncapturable deflance' which forever mocked at 
his ostensible victories. 

How, from under her lowered lids she watched 
him leave the room, and a quiet smile of amuse- 
ment flickered over her lips. ‘‘Let them arrange 
their ball as they please,” she thought to herself. 
“I shall play the part of guest, and criticise in- 
stead of entertain. It would be rather amusing 
for Sir J asper, if the rumor got about that his 
wife was a little off her head. The county may 
come once, but I fancy it rests with myself if 
they ever come again; and yet I never thwart a 
command of his or oppose a wish.” 

“Emilia!” exclaimed Miss Sabina, sharply, 
“I have twice asked you a question, and you sit 
there like a deaf person, smiling at nothing. 
Will you give me your attention?” 

Miss Em rose to her feet and shot one sharp 
irritated glance at her sister-in-law. 

“Ho,” she said, defiantly; “I will not. My 
wishes go for nothing here, so I shall keep my 
opinions to myself. You may arrange things 
just as you please; manage, or muddle, it’s all 
the same to me ! The only questions of any im- 
portance as far as I’m concerned are the date, 
and my dress.” 

“Well!” gasped Miss, Sabina; but Lady Lus- 


374 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


trell was sweeping out of the room, her head 
loftily erect, her soft black draperies trailing on 
the old worn carpet, her face, could she but 
have seen it, beaming with mischievous de- 
light. 

“Oh! my dear Miss Em, why did you do it?” 
exclaimed Molly, a few minutes later, as she fol- 
lowed her stepmother into her boudoir. 

“Do — what?” asked Miss Em, turning from 
the contemplation of the May glories, to the 
wistful, lovely face beside her. 

Strangely wistful and pale it had grown of 
late, losing the girlish bloom and radiance, and 
gaining instead the thoughtful yet sadder shadows 
that are the gifts of experience. 

“Well, of course, I mean letting i^unt Sabina 
have the management of this ball — if ball it is to 
be. Perhaps -you don’t know how dreadful her 
parties can be. The dinners are bad enough, 
goodness knows ! She’d spoil everything for the 
want of -an additional pound of butter, or dozen 
of eggs ; and she’d grudge the fruit, though we 
have so much of it. I believe myself, she sells 
it, and has a private agreement with the gar- 
dener. But, as I was saying, the dinners were 
nothing when compared with the evening par- 
ties!” 

She wrung her hands in comic despair. “And 
now you’re going to let her give a ball — and in 
your nameP^ 

No italics could give any idea of the emphasis 
she laid on those two words. Surely it was bad 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


375 


enough to perpetrate a failure ; but to get the 
credit of that failure, wrongfully, that did indeed 
seem the height of folly. 

Miss Em only smiled at the impetuous out- 
burst. 

Her eyes turned again to the beauty of the 
landscape in all the blossoming loveliness of May 
— the snow and rose tints of petals, the gold of 
sun-touched leaves, the vivid green of boughs 
against the sky’s intense blue. Lustrell Park 
was at its fairest in these early months of sum- 
mer, and she had not yet wearied of that fair- 
ness. 

“My dear Molly,” she said at last, “have not 
we both agreed not to vex our heads about any- 
thing they do here? Now to me, half the fun 
of the entertainment will be watching the way 
Miss Sabina carries it out. All the anxiety will 
be hers^ all the amusement mine. I would say 
oiirs^ only you seem inclined to look at the se- 
rious side.” 

“Yes, I do,” answered Molly, “because you 
see, dear, I — know what it is.” 

“Then you ought to be all the more ready to 
laugh. After all, what does it matter? I don’t 
care a straw for the people, or what they say or 
think. In Dublin it would be a different matter, 
I grant; but for these old county fogies — ” 

“But it’s to be a 6aZZ,” reiterated Molly; 
“there won’t be so many fogies eX that. And 
the young ones are so keen ; and Paddy will 
come, you know, and he’ll expect to find every- 
thing so different under j^our regime.^’* 


376 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“True, I forgot Paddy,” said Miss Em, 
thoughtfully. “Well, Molly asthore, 1 see 
nothing for it but a trick, and you must 
aid and abet me. We’ll have two suppers, 
and in two different rooms! What do you 
say?” 

“Lovely!” cried Molly, her eyes sparkling. 
“But how on earth can you manage?” 

Miss Em laughed. “I’ll maneuver all that,” 
she said, her eyes glowing with the old rakish 
enjoyment of long ago. “Trust me, my dear; 
we’ll have our supper from Dublin, and Miss 
Sabina shan’t know a word about it. As for 
waiting. I’ll have Quinlan round unbeknown to 
any one, and our maid Dwyer is clever enough, 
and that young footman Macan — 1 dare say we 
can smuggle him away. Now the question is, 
what room? It must be one that no one enters, 
or is likely to require for that occasion, and we 
must have our own password for our party when 
the time arrives and separate them skillfully. 
Oh, faith, ’twill be diverting enough, and make 
up for many a long day’s boredom we’ve had 
with them.” 

Molly laughed ecstatically, “ ’Twill be the 
grandest fun I’ve ever had,” she said. “Only 
I suppose we shall catch it afterward.” 

“My dear child,” said Miss Em, mockingly, 
“did you ever hear of the Irishman yet who 
spoiled a bit of devilment for sake of that word 
‘afterward’? No, nor an Irish woman, either, 
and it isn’t Peg O’Hara (thought I’m not that 
now) that’s going to begin.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


377 


Molly surveyed her with gentle wonder. What 
a chameleon she was! And how did it happen 
that anything in the way of mischief or wicked- 
ness always called up that touch of the “brogue, ’ ’ 
and banished the sel intonation and unreal suav- 
ity which was characteristic of her ordinary 
manner? 

So far as absolute discussion went, Miss Em’s 
plot was in a somewhat sketchy state ; she pre- 
ferred it to “simmer,” she told Molly. 

So for several days no more was said about it, 
though Miss Em’s brain was actively at work 
in elaborating her first design. The thought of 
Paddy Kearney fired her energies ; he, at least, 
must never know how doubtful a position she 
held in her own house, and he would enjoy more 
than any one the plot which she had determined 
upon carrying to a successful issue. 

Meanwhile, days flew by, and acceptances be- 
gan 'o fall in showers of polite unanimity. Miss 
Em was secretly delighted and outwardly in- 
different. Side b}^ side, however, with Miss 
Sabina’s list she framed her own, arranged her 
supper - table, and paired off her respective 
couples. 

The whole of the youthful and mirth-loving 
contingent were to be swept off in her train; 
Miss Sabina and Sir Jasper could do what they 
pleased with the dowagers and fogies. 

It was necessary to confide in Miss Bedelia to 
some extent, as she had to be intrusted with the 
Dublin order; but she imagined Miss Em’s in- 
junctions as to strict secrecy was only part of 


378 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


her love of mystery, and that she was “up to 
something” at last. 

The old lady had of course received an invi- 
tation, as had also Lady Pat, and both had ac- 
cepted. They would therefore have to share in 
Miss Em’s plan, as she fully intended to include 
them among her guests - 

“Faith, Molly, ’twill be a nice party,” she 
said; “only, let us pray your aunt won’t go 
spying about and discover this room, or we’re 
lost.” 

The room in question was a quaint octagonal 
chamber — once the schoolroom — that for years 
had been given over to dust and lumber. By 
dint of watching their opportunities Molly and 
Miss Em and the girl Dwyer had weeded out all 
the rubbish, and so cleaned and re-arranged the 
place that no one could have recognized it. 

The arrangements had been skillfully and 
quietly conducted, and not a soul except those 
concerned in the plot ever dreamed of what was 
going on. ' 

Every one else in the house was busily occu- 
pied with preparing the great ballroom — a work 
of no small pretensions; but Miss Sabina insisted 
it should be done by the servants, and would 
give no extra help. There was much grumbling 
and ill temper displayed, and a general amount 
of disorder and confusion that secretly delighted 
Miss Em, and was also a good cover for her own 
and Molly’s handiwork. 

Over two hundred people were expected; of 
the number Miss Em had selected forty for her 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


879 


own supper- party — twenty pairs of choice spirits 
who would think Lady Lustrell’s surprise the 
best part of the entertainment. 

A.s the day approached, Molly was in a state 
of nervous trepidation for fear of discovery. 

Miss Em, on the other hand, was cool and 
composed, and brimming over with enjoyment 
at the prospect of “turning the tables’’ so com- 
pletelj’’. 

Sir J asper could not understand her apparent 
indifference to the great occasion. Finally, he 
put it down to sullenness at the insignificant 
part she was allowed in the whole matter, and ^ 
deriving some gratification from this belief, he 
awaited the evening of the ball with complacent 
curiosity. 



380 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

“a sound of revelry by night.” 

Sir Jasper and Miss Lustrell were awaiting 
their guests in the small drawing - room that 
opened into the ballroom of the castle. Lady 
Lustrell had not yet appeared, and the old 
baronet was fuming and fidgeting at her dila- 
toriness. 

Her constant unpunctuality was one of his 
causes of complaint against her, but neither 
wrath noT irony seemed to amend the habit. 

The sound of wheels was distinctly heard 
when she hurried into the room, followed by « 
Molly. Sir Jasper and his sister started as 
they looked at the regally magnificent woman 
who walked up the room buttoning her gloves 
and apparently quite unconscious of the sensa- 
tion she created. 

A magnificent court train of rich emerald- 
hued velvet worn over a dress of soft black 
lace, and caught here and there with jet, com- 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


381 


posed her toilet. Her white hair was swept off 
her brow, dressed high, and powdered. She 
wore not a single ornament to detract from the 
faultless contour and milky whiteness of throat 
and bust. Her arms were bare to the elbow, and 
guiltless even of a bracelet ; but she looked so 
splendidly handsome that Miss Sabina grew 
green with envy, and Sir Jasper could scarcely 
remove his eyes from her. 

Molly looked somewhat pale and anxious, and 
her dress of pure white silk with trails of May 
blossom rather enhanced her pallor. She was 
terribly uneasy, and full of misgivings as to the 
success of the plot. 

But no misgivings troubled Miss Em; she was 
always in her element when mischief was on, 
and never had she perpetrated such a glorious 
piece, of daring as this. 

How she had managed was still a mystery to 
Molly, although they had only both rushed in 
that very moment from a last visit to the supper- 
room. 

It was a scene of beauty that perfectly daz- 
zled the girl. Flowers and plants hid all 
the “bad corners,” as Miss Em called them. 
Plate and glass hired from Dublin glittered 
on the table and buffet; dainty dishes, piles 
of exquisite fruit and wines of the choicest 
brands all promised unlimited enjoyment to 
the revelers. 

The lights were not numerous enough to 
show up deficiencies, or betray “toilet secrets.” 
Everything was soft and dim, and restful to the 


38'2 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


eye; a picture to please any sense of artistic fit- 
ness in the guests, without too forcibly diverting 
their attention from each other. 

For conviviality was Miss Em’s watchword, 
and she had made a judicious selection of “kin- 
dred souls” who would ably second her own lead 
in that line. 

Meanwhile people began to arrive in quick 
succession, and Lady Lustrell had enough to 
do in receiving them. 

The younger members passed on into the ball- 
room, where the band had already commenced 
to play. The elder lingered in the drawing-room 
or hall, where card-tables and seats gave prom- 
ise of comfort and entertainment more in keep- 
ing with their years. 

In a very short space of time the ballroom pre- 
sented a magnificent coup deceit. Uniforms, 
dresses, jewels, faces pretty and plain, forms 
manly and meager, all the curious and hetero- 
geneous contrasts which mean “social enjoy- 
ment” were here displayed. 

To Miss Em this return to her old well-loved 
life after so long an eclipse, was as the taste of 
blood to the tiger. A few moments, and all her 
good resolutions were thrown to the winds. She 
was talking, laughing, jesting, arranging, in the 
old bright, resistless way. The flashing lights, 
the happy faces, the strains of the music, all 
combined to fire her blood, and make her, as of 
old, the center of all that was wittiest, gayest, 
and most reckless in the crowd. Old faces 
smiled familiar welcome, and lips long silent 


PEG, THE RAKE 


383 


bandied familiar jests. Here and there the 
electric current of affinity attracted groups, and 
she was invariably one of the number, only 
breaking them up to form them afresh in kalei- 
doscopic' changes whose variety possessed inces- 
sant charm. 

Sit Jasper watched her with frowning brows. 
He felt he could do nothing to stop this torrent 
of popularity, nothing to subdue or crush this 
brilliant comet-like creature, who flashed here 
and there before his amazed eyes, everywhere 
receiving homage, flattery, attention, such as 
he had declared should never again be her 
portion. 

Outwardly bland, but inwardly raging, he 
had to receive congratulations long evaded, and 
doubly distasteful now. As for Miss Lustrell, 
she was furious. This excitement and restless- 
ness and mobility of the hostess were far removed 
from her idea of manner and demeanor. She 
had been accustomed to a dignified and well- 
regulated mode of entertainment, and had cer- 
tainly never behaved in the “harum scarunv’ 
way of Lady Lustrell. But the crowning shock 
of all was when the said Lady Ijustrell laughing- 
ly announced to some dozen or so of the Hite of 
“co^mty fogydom” — “Do not please give me 
the credit of this delightful evening, you are 
ail indebted to my sister-in-law for it. I merely 
look upon myself as a guest, like one of your- 
selves.’’ 

Fogydom gasped, and surveyed each other in 
astonishment as the emerald velvet train swept 


381 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


itself away into another circle; and, judging 
from the mirth and hilarity following its ar- 
rival, the effect produced was in contrast to the 
gloom left behind. 

Time passed on; and the elder members of the 
assembly, chaperons, and wall-flowers, and card- 
players began to meditate upon the possibilities 
of su_pper. As a rule the suppers and dinners at 
Castle Lustrell were not of the very best descrip- 
tion; but the advent of Lady Lustrell, and her 
well-known capabilities, promised that this oc- 
casion would vary agreeably from previous ex- 
periences. 

Shortly before midnight Miss Sabina might 
have been observed peering anxiously about in 
nooks and corners, and varying this occupation 
by diving into her. pocket or giving surreptitious 
shakes to her black satin skirts. 

Her face gradually betrayed consternation, 
and at last she hurried up to Sir Jasper to con- 
fide the reason. 

‘‘I’ve lost my supper list,” she whispered. 
”You know there were to be two detachments, 
and dancing was still to go on, and. now I don’t 
know how to arrange the people.” 

“Pooh, pooh,” said the old baronet, impa- 
tiently, “you can remember well enough with- 
out a list; or stay,” he added, quickly, “ask 
Lady Lustrell to manage it, she has all the 
names at her fingers’ ends. Of course the young 
folk are to be left till the elders have finished. 
There can’t be much difficulty.” 

Miss Sabina looked round for her sister-in-law. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


385 


For once she felt she would be glad of her as- 
sistance. 

It almost seemed as if Miss Em divined 
the necessity, for she appeared at this moment 
and suavely inquired if it was not time for 
supper. 

“Of course it is,” snapped Miss Sabina; 
“but unfortunately I’ve lost my list, and I 
can’t remember how I had arranged the two 
parties.” 

“Oh! I’ll do that for you,” said Miss Em, 
genially. “The old fogies, of course, go in 
first.” 

“I remember Lady Patricia and Dr. Mac- 
Shamus were to be among them,” began Miss 
Sabina, “and the Barringtons, and Sir Lucius 
and Lady Carew, and the Lovells and Mrs. 
O’Hara, and — ” She ran through the names 
feebly, but Miss Em cut her short with a rapid 
gesture. 

“Don’t worry yourself, ’-she said, and moved 
swiftly away to give the necessary hints. Sir 
Jasper moved off to the side of his appointed 
dowager, and Sir Lucius Carew, an old sex- 
agenarian, but a noted county favorite, ap- 
proached Miss Sabina. 

Lady Lustrell had decided on going in with 
the second detachment. 

A general move was soon apparent. 

It was some time, however, before Miss Sa- 
bina discovered that not only was the dining- 
room crowded beyond the limits she had decided, 
but that a great many people were there who' 


B86 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


ought not to have 'been present, and a great 
many were absent whose places should decidedly 
have been among the elect. 

However, it was impossible to alter anything 
now, and she had to make the best of affairs. 
She looked in vain for Lady Pat’s dignified fig- 
ure.^or Dr. MacSharnus’s genial face, though 
his wife was there with old Mr. Barrington. 

“So like Emilia!” she said to herself in vexa- 
tion. “Just doing everything in that helter- 
skelter fashion of hers. It’s not a bit what 1 
had planned.” 

From time to time tho strains of the band 
reached them, but there was no doubt that the 
party “hung fire” and were universallj^ dull and 
bored. The supper itself seemed strangely in- 
sufficient for the large number who had crowded 
in ; and Miss Sabina could not help thinking that 
the viands had considerably decreased since she 
had superintended the table. 

Still the meal dragged itself on, and conversa- 
tion, though more spasmodic than brilliant, did 
not seem to flag. It annoyed Sir Jasper that 
Sir Lucius Carew would get up on his feeble old 
legs and propose, with many senile chuckles and 
flatteries, the health of their “beautiful and 
charming hostess.” The speech was long and 
prosy, and Sir Jasper was bound to reply to it 
in the character of the “proud and happy hus- 
band” he had been called. The idea of toasts 
once started spread like an epidemic, and it 
seemed as if the second contingent would have 
to wait till morning for their chance of supper, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


387 


when, at last, Miss Sabina in desperation rose 
from the table. 

In pairs and groups they all straggled back to 
the ballroom, but on reaching it there was an 
involuntary exclamation of surprise. 

It was perfectly empty. 

The musicians were chatting and laughing, 
and occasionally twanging a string of harp or 
violin, but they had evidently ceased playing for 
want of the “dancers dancing in tune.” 

Miss Sabina turned to her brother, amazement 
depicted on her face. 

“Why — where are all the others?” she gasped. 

As if in answer, there came a sudden peal of 
laughter, loud, clear, ringing, the laughter that 
could still make Sir Jasper’s heart contract with 
icy horror ; following it — the sound of voices, the 
clatter of glass, the unmistakable uproar of fes- 
tivity — and very jovial festivity too. Sir Jasper 
turned suddenly in the direction of these remark- 
able sounds. One of the doors of the ballroom, 
curtained over for the occasion, opened into a 
passage at the end of which was a swing door 
of green baize. Through this door, down the 
passage he marched, every nerve of his body 
quivering with excitement and dread of he knew 
not what. After him came Miss Sabina, and 
following close on her a few more curious or 
more venturesome spirits than by right ought to 
belong to “fogydom.” 

Thrusting open this swing door with nervous 
hands Sir Jasper was confronted by a scene that 
riveted him to the spot. He was unconscious of 


388 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the crowding forms behind: he only saw a, daz- 
zling array of rose shaded lights, and flowers, 
and silver, and glass, and pretty faces, massed 
in wonderful confusion. The babble of laughter 
and tongues was indescribable; no doubt that 
“enjoyment” was the order of the daj^, or 
rather night, here. 

Amid it all one face shone out, beaming with 
happiness and mischief, one voice rang out more 
clearly than any other. The brilliant eyes were 
sparkling with pleasure, wit and mirth fired 
every laughing speech and jest that she show- 
ered around. Sir Jasper, fascinated yet bewil- 
dered > stood there and watched her, while over 
his shoulder appeared Miss Sabina’s shocked and 
rigid face. 

Then a sudden silence fell, a whispered hush-h 
stole round the glittering- board. 

Dr. MacShamus was proposing a health; his 
full sonorous voice and rounded periods rolled 
through the room The brief speech touched all 
hearts. It spoke much that was felt by each, 
and that none but so old and tried a friend could 
have put into w^ords. 

“One whose pepularitj^ is as familiar as it is 
deserved — whose kind heart and generous nature 
no friend has ever taxed in vain, whom we all 
love and respect, and whose pleasant surprise of 
this evening is only another signal instance of 
what her wit and versatility are capable of — one 
whom we all pray may live for many a long year 
happy and prosperous as she deserves— one v/ho, 
in the character of hostess to-night, has given us 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


.89 


a more delightful entertainment than the famous 
Castle Lustrell has ever yet approached —this is 
the toast 1 propose, the health I ask you all to 
drink, with every honor and good wish that she 
deserves. Ladies and gentlemen, I propose the 
health of — ’’ 

“Peg, the Rake!” 

Miss Em had sprung to her feet, in her hand 
a brimming goblet of champagne, and so stand- 
ing she faced the stern, horrified faces grouped 
in the doorway. 

There was a second’s astonished pause, then 
the voices round took up the name as if by one 
consent ; the name their hostess had given them, 
in place of the empty title she abhorred. 

Those who knew and those who did not know 
its origin alike seized upon it, and cheered her to 
the echo. And she — laughing defiance at the 
man who had deemed that name a humiliation — 
tossed off the sparkling wine in very mockery, and 
flaunted it before his eyes; cheered and honored, 
and echoing the applause of half a hundred 
tongues, here in his own house, here at his own 
table, here by unanimous assent of his own 
guests I 


390 


PEG, THE RAKB, 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A FEMININE CAUSERIE. 

“Faith,” said Miss Bedelia, “it’s the biggest 
mistake in the world to say women are ever too 
old for a bit of devilry — Irishwomen, I mean. 
If they are it’s only because the right person isn’t 
there to put them up to it I” 

“I believe you’re right,” laughed Lady Pat. 
“Even I enjoyed the surprise party better than 
the orthodox one. As for you, Em, you seemed 
to have gone back to the old days once more.” 

“She has the true O’Hara temperament,” said 
Miss Bedelia, approvingly. 

Miss Em shrugged her shapely shoulders, and 
moved slowly toward a small table on which 
Quinlan had just placed a tray of glasses, a 
spirit stand, and some bottles of soda-water. 

The three women had congregated in her dress- 
ing-room to discuss ■ the ball and the people be- 
fore going to bed. They had removed their 
finery for dressing-gowns and slippers, and dis- 
posed themselves in the deep cushioned armchairs 
that the mistress of the castle so dearly loved, 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


;]9i 

and of which she had a supply in every room 
that she used. 

“You’ll not say— she questioned, bring- 
ing a glass of the foaming mixture to each of the 
elder ladies. 

“I’ll answer for myself,” said Miss Bedelia. 
“The fatigues of pleasure begin to tell on me 
now. Not that I’d be saying it to any one, or 
refusing any party for the sake of aching joints 
the day after. Ah, that’s as good as champagne, 
and better any day,” she said, putting down her 
empty glass. “ ’Twas very thoughtful of you, 
my dear, though I must say I had plenty of re- 
freshment downstairs.” 

“And now,” said Lady Pat, as Miss Em re- 
seated herself, “tell me why you played that 
trick on Miss Lustrell, for I feel sure it was a 
trick. Sir Jasper and herself looked thunder- 
struck as they stood in the doorway.” 

Miss Em laughed. “Well, I’ll confess to you 
both,” she said. “I don’t get on too well with 
Sabina, and her ideas of catering for so large an 
assembly were not quite so lavish as they might 
Iiave been. But I didn’t want to worry the creat- 
ure unnecessarily, so I thought I’d have a supper 
party of my own. That’s all.” 

‘ ‘ Then they didn’t know about the second room 
jat all?” questioned Lady Pat. 

“No; Molly and I did everything with the help 
of one maid.” 

“Shure, it was mighty creditable,” laughed 
Miss Bedelia. “It reminds me of the tricks we’d 
play at home when we were youngsters, only we 


392 


PEG, THE RAKE 


didn’t carry out our jokes on such a large scale 
as you, Em. I’m thinking, all the same, people 
will talk about this.” 

‘ ‘ Let them, ’ ’ said Miss Em, scornfully. ‘ ‘ What 
do I care for their talking? I’ve had my way, 
and I’ve shown that I intend to have it—” 

She paused abruptly. She had not aired her 
skeleton before other eyes yet, and she did not 
intend that Lady Pat should guess at its exist- 
ence. 

“Perhaps they wanted waking up a bit,” re- 
marked Miss Bedelia. “It’s all very fine to be 
grand, but it’s not amusing.” 

“Do you find many things amusing?” asked 
Lady Pat, languidly. “I wish 1 could.” 

“Try shocking Mrs. Grundy,” suggested Miss 
Bedelia. 

“Oh Lady Pat couldn’t do that,” said Miss 
Em ; “she’s on too good terms with the old lad}", 
and she’d only be called eccentric when you and 
I would be pronounced disgraceful.” 

“Faith, it’s not what we Irish do, but what 
we’d dare that frightens people,” laughed Miss 
Bedelia. “Look at Charley Bray, now! trying 
to carry off his own v/ife in the light of day and 
against all the injunctions and penalties of the 
law, for you know she went in fear of her life 
of him, and had even got a separation.” 

“What was that?” asked Lady Pat, sipping 
soda-water and — something — abstractedly. 

“Haven’t you heard? Why, ’tis common talk 
now. He was a rare blackguard, and he’d only 
married her for her money, and was making 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


393 


cTucks and drakes of it, not to mention other lit- 
tle vagaries which no decent woman could counte- 
nance. Well, when she got the separation he 
couldn’t have the money any longer, arid she 
was safe from him, living with her two brothers 
at Ballinatray, and a good twenty miles between 
them. One day she was out in the carriage by 
herself, and just outside the village, Bray and 
two of his friends set on it and stopped the horses, 
and one of them threatened to brain the coach- 
man if he stirred a hand, and Charley Bray him- 
self opened the door and tried to drag the poor 
woman out, she all the time screeching and kick- 
ing like the — ahem. Well, you know, Emilia, 
my dear, what a powerful big woman she was. 
At last she gave him a kick that sent him fljdng 
across the road, and his friends ran to help him, 
and up she jumps on the coachman’s box and 
takes the reins and drives off like fury till she 
reaches the lodge gates. Her husband hasn’t 
troubled her since, I’m told.” 

“I’m not surprised at that,” said Lady Pat, 
smiling. 

“The family'onher side always did give them- 
selves mighty airs,” said Miss Em. “You re- 
member Lady Anne? Why, no one was good 
enough for her to speak to; and yet there were 
some pretty queer stories going round about her, 
and those trips to Paris and Algiers, and— Cairo, 
wasn’t it?” 

“A mighty safe place Cairo would be^to go to 
if one was minded to have a diversion,” said 
Miss Bedelia. “1 commend it to your notice, 


394 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Emilia, when you find the air of Castle Lustrell 
doesn’t agree with you. Faith, ’twould be as 
good as Polynesia or Samoa, and more inter- 
esting, too, in the way of society.” 

“Lady Anne always had her husband’s per- 
mission to winter at Cairo,” interpolated Lady 
Pat. “You mustn’t be uncharitable, Em.” 

“I’m not,” answered Miss Em; “only 1 hap- 
pen to know how very agreeably he managed to 
pass those winters when his wife’s lungs were 
delicate.” 

“Indeed, ’tis a wicked world,” said Miss Be- 
delia, with sudden gravity, “and society’s get- 
ting worse every day. It smiles at hypocrites 
when it should stamp sinners. It kisses us in 
public, and shudders at us in private. It affects 
to believe what we say we are, and questions 
our morals no more than it does our religion. 
Both are too sacred for intrusion.” 

“I’ve had a wide experience,” said Lady Pat, 
presently. ‘ ‘ I someti nies ask myself if I oughtn’t 
to regret instead of boast of it. Dear, dear, it is 
sad to grow old, and look back on a volume of 
histories, and remember how few among them 
are creditable, or wise, or happy.” 

“The happy have no histories,” quoted Miss 
Em; “for them life is only a stagnant pool, a 
dead level, a valley from which they never lift 
their eyes to gaze at mountain he’ghts or hilltops 
beyond their reach.” 

“If that’s so I’m glad I was never happy,” 
laughed Miss Bedelia. “Many’s the hilltop I’ve 
climbed, and many’s the slip and tumble I’ve 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


395 


bad on my way. All the same, I’m glad to 
have tried to breathe a higher atmosphere, 
though my success wasn’t much to boast of.” 

“You’ve always taken life easily,” said Lady 
Pat, regarding her thoughtfully. “1 suppose 
you’ve never regretted that — that — ” 

“Don’t fear to give it a name,” said Miss Be- 
delia; “that I didn’t exchange my liberty, you 
mean? Well, it’s a difficult question to answer 
truthfully. There have been times when I was 
sorry that I’d denied myself the love of husband 
or child. All women must feel that some time 
or other. Sure, isn’t it Nature that speaks to 
us?” 

“We are three childless women,” said Lady 
Pat, with sudden gravity, “and we have said 
we know life. Why, a woman may have all 
the gifts of fortune, all the triumphs of beauty, 
a lover’s worship, a husband’s love, but, believe 
me, if she has not felt a little child’s lips touch 
her own unasked— her own little child — she has 
missed something life can never atone for.” 

A little shiver ran through Miss Em’s quiet 
frame, but her face seemed to grow suddenly 
hard and cold. 

‘ ‘ That is only sentiment, ’ ’ she said. ‘ ‘ Children 
are but another form of heart-break. Every new 
tie in life is only a new burden; fresh worr}^ 
anxiety, expense. I fail to see where the com- 
pensation comes in.” 

“That’s what many a woman says before she 
becomes a mother,” remarked Miss Bedelia. “1 
suppose, as with most things, the theory is differ- 


896 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


ent to the practice. I’ve known some very bad 
mothers whom the world called good women. 
and on the other hand some very bad women who 
were good mothers. But indeed we’re weak 
creatures at the best, and men have much to 
answer for.” 

“Don’t say said Lady Pat, languidly; 

“that limits our horizon so jjainfully; we ought 
to have some wider sphere than their praise or 
countenance has given us.” 

Miss Em’s eyes flashed with sudden scorn. 
“There would bo no sphere too wide for us if 
we once got our chance! The world would be 
a different place to-day if women hadn’t con- 
tented themselves with being what men had 
decreed them to be. A patent with no need 
of improvement! that’s the Eternal Feminine, 
according to them.” 

“But, according to us,” said Lady Pat, “the 
Eternal Feminine will prove a dangerous per- 
sonage before many years are over. That rib is 
growing to alarming proportions,” 

“ Well, it may stop where it is for me,” laughed 
Miss Bedeiia. “I’ve had my day and a very 
good day it was, too. What would we be turn- 
ing the world topsy-turvy for? Faith, ’tis a bad 
place enough, but who’s to right it? Priests 
haven’t done it, kings haven’t done it, sorrow 
and suffering, wars and governments haven’t 
done it; and maybe you’ll say I’m behind the 
times if I give you my opinion that women won’t 
do it, though I’d not prevent them having a try 
at it. They’re queer creatures at best, swayed 


PEG, THE RAKE. 397 

one way and another, carried off their feet by 
impulse; wicked without vice, and pure without 
virtue; the queerest contradictions into which 
God ever put the breath of life.” 

“I used to be very hard on women’s follies 
and women’s sins — once,” said Lady Pat, 
thoughtfully; “but I am older now — I won’t 
say wiser — and I confess frankly that if life has 
taught me nothing else it has taught me charity 
in judgment. I could excuse anything, every- 
thing, every sin they commit, every temptation 
to which they yield, so cruel is life to them!” 

“ It is cruel, ’ ’ said Miss Em, suddenly. ‘ ‘Clever 
more so than when it takes our youth and leaves 
us only ‘footprints of memory on the sands of 
time.’ ” 

“The curse of modern life is self-analysis,” 
said Lady Pat; “don’t let us turn Hamlets at 
this time of night, or rather, morning. Better to 
discuss our neighbors’ faults than to dissect our 
own natures. It is a waste of time, thought and 
emotion.” 

“It’s a necessity to which we are driven de- 
spite ourselves,” said Miss Em, moodily. “Our 
sphere is limited to that, when we. seek interest 
in anything beyond the dismal routine of exist- 
ence. ’ ’ 

“Limitations,” observed Lady Pat, “are the 
fate of life.- They prove the impossibility of 
doing what you want to do with it.” 

“I fancy if we could do what we want to do, 
some of us would be landed in very queer places, ’ ’ 
said Miss Bedelia. “There’s things I’ve heard 




398 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


women say they wanted to do would astonish 
you, Lady Pat, with all your acquaintance with 
society. You never heard, I’m sure, of that 
pretty little- Mrs. Vaughan - Smith; looks like 
a piece of Dresden china, so fragile and dainty 
and innocent. Well, nothing would content her 
but dressing up. in her brother’s clothes (they 
were twins, and like as two peas, height and 
all), and going out at night in the Dublin streets; 
and if she didn’t meet one of his friends, and 
he took her to a musi6 haU, and a fine time she 
had of it, and no one would ever have been the 
wiser only she let out what the man said of an- 
other married woman. That led to ructions, 
and in a fit of recklessness she told the whole 
story. But her husband was a good soul, and 
he forgave her, and she snapped her fingers at 
other folk, and after a few days’ talk, faith, 
’twas the man had the laugh against and 
she not a penny the worse.” 

“Didn’t I say ’tis a ease of ‘what a woman 
would do, what an Irishwoman would dare'f^ 
said Lady Pat, laughing. “I happen to know 
the Dresden china doll you mention. If ever in- 
nocence was belied, her mind gives the lie to 
her face. But every one believes in her, and she 
has never had to go to Cairo.” 

“Ah, now that’s very uncharitable, ” said Miss 
Bedelia. “You’re as bad as Mrs. Lyons’ nurse, 
who tells the story of attending her whole family 
through the scarlet fever, and the morning she 
went away Mrs. Lyons vowed she must send her 
a handsome present, and then— borrowed half a 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


399 


crown. I needn’t tell you she never got sight of 
the present, and indeed had to summons her for 
her nursing fee afterward.” 

“Was that the Mrs. Harry Lyons who came 
in for so much money a year ago?” asked Miss 
Em. 

“The same. Did you ever hear of that grand 
dinner they gave — their first? The husband was 
just a common man, and she wasn’t much bet- 
ter; but the airs now, faith — they’d make the 
dead and gone Lyons stare!” 

“What about the dinner-party?” asked Lady 
Pat. 

“Oh! a queer set-out that was,” laughed Miss 
Bedelia, “and not the most select of company, the 
men especially — indeed, ’twas the first time some 
of them had ever put on dress clothes. She her- 
self was just as nervous as a hen on a hot grid- 
dle, and keeping an eye all the time on their be- 
havior, for she’d been studying the ‘etiquette of 
the dinner- table’ ever since she’d the party in her 
mind. But I suppose she wasn’t sure they knew 
as much as she did, for when it came to the time 
for the ladies retiring she jumps up and says: 
‘Gintlemen, you’ll all please lo stand while the 
ladies lave the room.’ ” 

Lady Pat laughed heartily. 

“I can quite believe that of her,” she said. 

“And now she’s got the best set in Dublin 
round her,” added Miss Bedelia. 

“What a pity wealth and vulgarity so often 
go together!” continued Lady Pat. “But here 
we are scandalizing our neighbors at three o’clock 


in the morning, instead of going to bed like sen- 
sible folk/’ 

She rose, yawning slightly,, but Miss Bedelia 
shook herself jauntily and declared her intention 
of sitting up for an hour longer, as she hadn’t 
had an opportunity of talking to her niece alone 
since she married. Lady Pat kissed them both 
and left the room. 

“Now, my dear,” said Miss Bedelia, when the 
door closed, “if you could get such a thing as 
a kettle of hot water and let me make myself a 
drop of punch, it would just settle all that cham- 
pagne, not to mention the ices and creams I par- 
took of. It was a fine supper, and no mistake. 
Ah, I see you’ve got a spirit-lamp and kettle; 
I call that quite a neat invention now. You 
never know whether you mightn’t be taken witli 
cramp in the stomach, or some such ailment in 
the night, and you’re not such a young woman 
now. Peg, my darling, though you wear your 
years well, that I will say, and you looked mag- 
nificent to-night. Now, come and tell me all 
about it,” she added, coaxingly, and drawing 
Miss Em’s chair, close to her own, “wouldn’t 
they let you have your own way about the party 
at all?” 

“Not without a battle,” said Miss Em, some- 
what wearily, “and 1 didn’t feel inclined for 
that, so 1' tried strategy.” 

“But what’s the reason?” asked Miss Bedelia. 
“Don’t you and Sir Jasper agree? as for that 
sour old maid, I can’t for the life of mo under- 
stand why you have her here at the castle at all. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


401 


You’re well and strong now, and it’s but right 
you should be your own mistress.” 

Miss Em bent over the little silver kettle whieh 
was bubbling and hissing promisingly, and 
evaded a direct answer. 

“It’s very dull being grand,” went on Miss 
Bedeiia. “Somehow, all respectability is that, 
but of course we owe it to our station. I never 
could stand it for long, though. 1 like amusing 
society, and I’m not too particular as to who or 
what people are if they please' me. And that’s 
what puzzles me, Peg, with you; faith, I’d have 
Miss Lustrell out of the house before another sun 
sets if she gave me any of her airs!” 

“You don’t understand my position,” said 
Miss Em, carefully measuring and mixing the 
punch as only an Irish person can. “It suits me 
not to quarrel with Sir Jasper, and therefore I 
must allow his sister to remain here. It also 
suits me^not to be overruled by her, and so I cir- 
cumvent her plots by counter-plots. That is the 
state of affairs between us.” 

“Ah, well, marriage is a lottery,” said Miss 
Bedeiia, sipping the cordial gratefully. “Faith, 
darling, the longer I live the better pleased I am 
I never gave up my liberty. It’s a grand thing 
to be able to do what you like, and never need 
to say, ‘By your leave’ to man or woman.” 

She crossed her feet, and leaned back and in- 
dulged in another sip of the mellow draught. 
“Why don’t you mix yourself a glass?” she 
said presently, looking at her niece’s tired white 
face as it rested against the crimson cushions ; 


402 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“ ’twill do you good; you look fatigued, my 
dear.” 

Miss Em shook her head. 

“No,” she said; “ *tis a dangerous comforter, 
and my head isn’t what it was.” 

“I’m sorry for that, ” said Miss Bedelia, sym- 
pathizingly. “But I’d be the last person to 
iidvise stimulants to any one against their own 
knowledge of themselves. Did you hear of Mrs. 
Murray — not married a year — Peggy Harrison 
that wasy you know? Such a pretty girl, lovely, 
indeed, all the men raved about her when she 
was presented. Well, her husband, poor man, 
is just driven wild with her. She’s never sober 
a day, they say, and he can’t keep the drink away 
from her. She pawned her very rings to get it 
when he wouldn’t let her have the keys of the 
cellar. She’ll kill herself, all the doctors sa}’'.” 

Miss Em shuddered. “They made her marry 
him,” she said, presently; “you know she was 
madly in love with that young officer, Jimmy 
Fortescue, but he hadn't a penny. This is the 
result, I suppose.” 

“ ’Twas done for the best. Trying to ham- 
mer out the old nail with a new one, you know. 
Maybe the old one was driven in too far. Any- 
way, they’re going to leave Dublin and go to 
America or Australia, or some foreign place. 
That’s the last chance.” 

“It’s very sad,” said Miss Em, thoughtfully. 
“If they had let her have her own way she might 
have been a better woman. There are worse 
things to face than poverty.’^ 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


tt03 

“Perhaps so, but poverty’s a mighty uncom- 
fortable thing for all that,” said Miss Bedelia, 
glancing round at the luxurious chamber. “I’m 
glad your lines have fallen in pleasant places, 
my darling, at all events; and even if Sir Jas- 
per’s a bit trying, and Miss Sabina an old harri- 
dan, they can’t live forever, and you’re bound 
to be rich and free some day.” 

Bound echoed Miss Em, drearily. “Don’t 
they say it is always the unexpected that happens? 
I might die before either of them, and then, what 
have I gained in exchange for — ” 

“For what?” questioned Miss Bedelia, sharply. 

^‘For my soul, I often think,” came the reck- 
less answer. 


404 


PEG, THE KAKE. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THREADS OF THE NET. 

Miss Em had so fully expected a storm after 
her last escapade that she was almost disappointed 
at hearing no remark from Sir Jasper on the' sub- 
ject. But when their visitors had left the castle 
and life had resumed its routine, she began to 
note a subtle curious change in the way she was 
treated. It might be described as the humoring 
of a sick person’s fancies, the yielding, unde_^r 
protest, to the whims of some one not quite re- 
sponsible for those whims. At first she was 
amused at this, and even laughed it over 
with Molly; but soon it began to irritate her 
highly-strung nerves, and when it took the 
form of a certain covert watchfulness on the 
part of Miss Sabina and the servants, she grew 
highly indignant, and demanded an explan- 
ation. 

Soothing words and a patronizing pretense of 
consideration were the only result. They planted 
the first germs of a suspicion in Miss Em’s quick 
brain, but fortunately for herself that suspicion 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


405 


was treated at first as a jest. It seemed too 
absurd that they should really believe her head 
was — well, not quite ri^ht; that even slight 
contradictions must now be avoided. The 
forced manner in which her wishes were con- 
sulted, even when plainly disobeyed, irritated 
her even more than all previous ignoring of her 
authority. 

It was Sir Jasper’s revenge, she kuew, but the 
knowledge was decidedly unpleasant. Besides, 
it was carrying the jest too far when the same 
obtrusive deferenpe was displayed before visitors, 
or at any entertainment to which they had ac- 
cepted an invitation. 

Slowly but surely the whisper spread, and 
unkind tongues were not loth to • give it ut- 
terance. Poor Lady Lustrell was a little 
‘‘queer in her head”; not absolutely insane, 
of course, but odd^ and requiring much vigi- 
lance and care. 

A few stanch friends refused to believe it, 
and the MacShamuses did their best to give the 
rumor stout denial. But it is easier to assert 
a lie than to disprove one; and the rolling 
stone of slander managed to gather a good 
deal of moss in the way of hints, stories, and 
suggestions, as it made its way through the 
county. 

The Emerald Isle is not behind the rest of the 
world in its judgments, or its uncharitableness. 
Indeed, why should it be, considering that no 
people take a deeper interest in their fellows, 
whatever be their station, rank, or calling, than 


406 


PEG, THE iiAKE. 


these warm-hearted, erratic and most insincere 
Celts? Gossip is the breath of life to every vil- 
lage and hamlet. It is the salt of existence to 
those aigher classes, “the quality’^; no one is 
too rhef>n. or too insignificant, or too evil to 
escape discassion; and if the smallest soupgon 
of mystery is dropped into the dish of scandal, 
that dish becomes doubly delectable, and no one 
dreams of passing it on un tasted. 

There had always been something “odd” about 
Miss Em; everyone agreed on that now, and 
the wild strain in the O’Hara , blood was again 
recalled to the memory of the present genera- 
tion by their elders, who claimed contemporary 
knowledge with past members of that ilt-omened 
famil3^ 

Lady Lustrell’s extraordinary conduct at her 
own supper-table was related again and again. 
The wild outburst in which she had claimed once 
more the old title of “Peg, the Rake,” was com- 
mented on in a way that would have made its 
originator shudder.. So strangely do we earn 
our judgments by our deeds! 

People still called on her, and still invited her; 
but that strange frost, that subtle change of man- 
ner spreading through every circle into which 
she intruded, were keenly and cruelly apparent, 
and touched her sensitive nature sometimes to 
pain, and sometimes to a wild, helpless rage that 
was almost terrifying. 

Molly tried to assure her that her suspicions 
were unfounded, and by her bright and happy 
companionship did much to disperse the clouds 


PKG, THE RA.KE. 


407 


that at times gathered so ominously. But there 
were dark hours at hand when Molly could not 
be present, hours in which Miss Em could not 
evade the threatening shadow on the threshold, 
hours when her own company grew hateful, and 
yet she feared to seek other. 

Probably the thumb-screw of the Inquisition 
did not look a very terrible instrument of tor- 
ture; but only the martyr who felt its slow in- 
creasing pressure knew what agony it caused, 
and the thumb-screw of an unseen tyranny 
was being steadilj^ applied to Miss Em’s inner 
life. 

If she could have seized, raged at it, battled 
with it, there would have been some satisfac- 
tion to be gained. But this was impossible. 
Her own pride would not let her acknowl- 
edge that her fears had tangible foundation. 
She was forever on the defense, but the 
foe never approached near enough for absolute 
conflict. 

It was a situation inflnitely more trying to 
nerves and temper than one of more positive 
aggravation. To all appearance Sir Jasper and 
herself agreed perfectly, and he was in the worst 
position of the two, but in her own heart she 
recognized with growing horror that indifference 
and dislike were developing into hatred, hatred 
of the cold sneer, the veiled discourtesy, the hid- 
den tyranny, the hundred and one petty niean- 
nesses which met her perpetually. 

She went out into society still; she laughed, 
talked, jested in the old light-hearted fashion; 


408 PEG, THE RAKE. 

but the zest was gone from it all, and her heart 
ached as it had never ached since her girlhood’s 
wild glad days. 

She had nothing to fall back upon; no occu- 
pation, no dilettante tampering with art, no do- 
mestic interests, nothing but Molly’s companion- 
ship; and Molly was often kept away or sent on 
visits, so that they might be parted. 

All through the warm bright days of summer 
she suffered and endured, while inwardly raging 
at her bonds. 

She felt old at last. Too old for such 
vengeance as once she might have taken, too 
old to win the world’s favor or forgiveness 
once she had lost her hold of it — the hold 
that her position as Sir Jasper’s wife still 
gave her. 

Sometimes a cold fear touched her. “If 
he tempted me to an outbreak,” she thought. 
“If he tried to prove me mad, what should 
I do? There’s no one now to whom I could 
appeal.” 

And, indeed, she was right. Her father was 
dead; her stepmother hated her; Miss Bedelia 
would have no right to interfere. 

The thought and the fear grew side by side 
—twin shapes of dread that rarely left her, 
and the very brooding over them was a danger 
which she dimly recognized, but a danger 
that there was no kind strong voice to warn 
her of. 

If she could have spoken of it to Dr. Mac- 
Shamus he would have combated the growing 


' PEG, THE RAKE. 


409 


horror with his cheery counsel, or laughed at 
it as a childish bugbear; but of late she had 
shunned these old friends with an odd shrinking 
from their pity, and fenced her life with a bar- 
rier of reserve that defied the kindest effort at 
intrusion. 

As time went on, her gradual shrinking from 
society became evident, and in marked contrast 
to that withdrawal was the growing popularity - 
of the new master of Rooklands. The county 
seemed to have forgiven Denis Morrison the sins 
of his youth, and to be gradually, but surely, 
welcoming him back. His vast wealth was in 
itself a power that could not but prove a power- 
ful lever in his favor. His lavish generosity, 
his reckless extravagance, the style in which he 
lived and entertained, were all subjects of im- 
portance. 

People began to talk of him incessantly ; to 
wonder whom he would marry; how he had 
made his enormous fortune; his reasons for buy- 
ing the adjoining estate, which estate spread al- 
most to the borders of Castle Lustrell, and made 
a far finer property ! And all this filtered by 
degrees to Miss Em’s ears, with additional gossip ✓ 
as to the lady favored by his attentions, who 
varied according to the invention or liking of the 
informant. 

Minnie* Barrington was the latest candidate 
for the honor, according to Quinlan, who 
had come to the castle one hot afternoon to 
“have a peep” at her darlin’, as she announced 
■^it. 


410 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


She was distressed beyond measure to find 
her looking so pale and listless, and unlike her- 
self. 

“Shure, me darlin’, ’tis a change yer wantin’,” 
said the old woman in deep concern. “Why don’t 
ye go to the sayside for a few weeks? ’Twud 
do ye a power o’ good.” 

Miss Em shook her head. 

“Sir Jasper hates leaving the castle,” she said,- 
“and the air here is good enough, Quinny dear. 
I’m all right; don’t look so anxious,” and she 
kissed the old woman’s withered cheek with sud- 
den passionate tenderness. 

But those faithful eyes were not to be deceived. 
This pale, haggard creature, with anxious lines 
on her brow and heavy shadows under her eyes, 
was very unlike the brilliant, handsome woman 
who had been the life and soul of the castle ball 
a few months previously. She looked ten years 
older in this brief time. Her spasmodic fits of 
gayety were more painful to her nurse’s watch- 
ful eyes than previous depression. She could 
have recognized the faithful Irish temperament 
in the one, for she knew well how volatile and 
changeable it is, but she could not bear to see 
effort where once all had been spontaneous; 
she could not bear to think her beloved Miss Peg 
should deem it necessary to be unreal with her, 
as undoubtedly she was. 

That interview was painful to both, and sorely 
perplexing to Quinlan, who vainly tried to dis- 
cover the reason for a change so strenuously 
denied. 


PEG, THE RAKE 


411 


Was she unhappy? No. Did Sir Jasper vex 
her or trouble her? No. Was it Miss Sabina 
then, bad luck to her, who had brought this 
change upon -her? Still no, no, no. 

“There’s nothing the matter indeed, Quinny,” 
reiterated Miss Em; “except that Fm growing 
old, and life is no longer a jest to me.” 

“Old is it?” ejaculated Quinlan, scornfully, 
“an’ yer eyes as bright, an’ yer figure as straight 
as a gurrl’s! Ah, now, don’t be after talkin’ 
that sort o’ nonsinse to me, my darlin’. It’s not 
ould ye’ll iVer be; an’ while the heart’s young 
and fresh ’tis small matter that the hair is 
v/hite.” 

She stayed on chatting encouragingly amd in- 
differently in her old random fashion, and after 
a while went down to have her tea in the serv- 
ants’ hall. She was determined to keep her eyes 
open for any hint that might explain this strange 
change in the mistress of the castle. But when 
that hint came through a chance phrase from the 
old housekeeper that “Lady Lustrell, poor soul, 
had never been quite right in her mind since her 
illness,” ihe faithful creature’s indignation was 
boundless. That they should dare say such a 
thing of her adored “Miss Peg” called forth an 
amount of vituperation only possible to an Irish 
tongue. 

The war raged violently. Hints became as- 
sertions, and statements became proofs; soon 
enough Quinlan saw what was at work, the 
origin of this cruel change, and the more dread- 
ful possibilities it unfolded. 


412 


PEG, THE BAKE. 


With quick tact she curbed her anger, and 
affected to treat the whole thing as a jest. Peace 
once more reigned, and the ready wit and jokes 
with which she turned off the subject into other 
channels created a div’^ersion of opinion in the 
minds of those she left behind her. 

Who should know their mistress better than 
her old nurse did, and how she had laughed at 
them! If eccentricity meant incipient madness 
then surely no Irish family was free from the 
taint. 

Quinlan had related incidents before which 
Lady Lustrell’s deeds paled into insignificance! 
Still, mud is apt to stick when once thrown, 
and the impression created by Quinlan’s stanch 
disbelief was not a lasting one. 

Unconsciously Miss Em did much to further 
it. A sudden shrinking from society, a nervous 
manner on entering a room or seeing any one 
else suddenly enter it, gave rise to fresh com- 
ments. The real reason was known only to 
herself. 

She dreaded to meet Denis Morrison face to 
face, and she knew that she constantly ran this 
risk. 

She had promised Sir Jasper that she would 
never speak to him, but as his popularity in- 
creased she felt this would be a difficult prom- 
ise to keep. Once or twice they had narrowly 
escaped a meeting, and often she had caught 
sight of him riding or walking, and avoided an 
encounter. But she thought of him perpetu- 
ally as her life narrowed itself into more per- 


PEG, XHE RAKE. 


413 


sonal channels; as long hours of loneliness and 
dreariness shadowed her daily existence, and the 
deadly fangs of ennui fastened on her mental 
energies and held them cramped and tortured in 
its grip. 

The failure of this energy, and the absolute 
indifference she felt to matters that had once 
been of interest and importance, were sometimes 
distressful to herself ; she could not understand 
them. She knew she was watched by critical 
and exacting eyes; the eyes of the man she had 
married, and of the man who knew her secret as 
no other save herself knew it. There had been 
a time when to play a part to each of these would 
have been only a delightful stimulant, a some- 
thing that would have braced every energy and 
called up every feminine art, but now — it seemed 
only weariness. 

As Lady Lustrell there were demands upon 
her she felt compelled to answer, exactions on 
the part of her husband that she was bound to 
meet. If he discerned any opposing will in her 
he had also acquired a power of coercion that re- 
duced such opposition to mere foolishness, that 
set before her a part and forced her to play it, 
whatever rebellion might be going on within her 
soul. 

Only a woman knows the force of a thousand 
and one minute threads, so to speak, weaving a 
web of obligation around each action of her daily 
life, fragile, intangible at first, but growing 
stronger and more complicated with every hour 
that knows them unbroken. 


414 PEG, THE RAKE. 

Who would believe, seeing the first feeble loops 
of the hunter’s net, that they could be multiplied 
into a trap strong enough to enfold the king of 
beasts? Yet so it is; and so is many another 
net that Fate weaves for human lives ; so fragile 
at first a child’s fingers might break it, so strong 
at last a man’s whole will may not force its 
meshes or defy its soft entanglement. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


415 


CHAPTER XXXVIL 

“-MY SPINNING IS AEG BONE.” 

There were times when Lady Patricia Moira 
wondered whether that matrimonial scheme on 
which she had been so bent had^ not proved a 
ghastly failure; whether it had been quite wise, 
after all, to persuade, and argue, and influence 
her godchild’s mind as she had done. 

The result seemed to point to the contrary. 

A wall of reserve was creeping up between 
Miss Em and herself. Those visits to Castle 
Lustrell which she had confidently anticipated 
in her part of the scheme, had never taken the 
shape of an invitation yet. The ball indeed was 
an exception, but even then she had only been 
asked for two days ; and Miss Bedelia and her- 
self had come to the conclusion that something 
was decidedly wrong in the household, though 
neither could define the “something” very ex- 
actly. 

Lady Lustrell was not a free agent. So much, 
at least, was apparent. The usual position of a 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


410 

comparatively young wife toward an old husband 
was not the position she held. Sir Jasper was 
neither uxorious nor devoted; his manner was 
politely cold, but politely suggestive of a “steel 
hand beneath the velvet glove”; and neither 
Lady Pat nor her friend could quite fit in the 
“steel hand” theory with their own preconceived 
ideas of husband and wife. 

When they were on their way back to Dub- 
lin they discussed the point keenly, but came 
to the inevitable conclusion tliat by whatever 
means it had been done. Miss Em was mastered 
at last. 

She had tried to throw dust in their eyes to no 
purpose. Their experience of her had been long 
enough to convince them that only some very 
strong power could ever coerce her into submis- 
sion It had not occurred to either that Sir Jas- 
per could be the person to possess this power; 
and yet, in the mind of each, there lurked some . 
thing stronger than suspicion that he did. 

He had not displayed himself in a very favor- 
able light as a host, and their acute eyes detected 
much that he had fancied successfully concealed. 
They felt alarmed for their favorite, though not 
for worlds would they have confessed it. The 
old random nature which had led to that scene 
in the supper-room had been quite recognizable, 
as also the invitation to assemble in her dress- 
ing-room in the small hours of the morning, and 
discuss persons, circumstances, and things with 
such accompaniments as Quinlan had judiciously 
supplied. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


417 


Hot punch and whisky and soda were no 
mean inducements to gossip or confidence, and 
mahy a party had been concluded in a similar 
fashion; but this occasion had wanted some- 
thing of the old mirth, the old interest, the old 
reckless jests and quips which had been wont to 
make Miss Em’s company exhilarating. 

And instinctively they felt it was the last of 
such meetings. 

Their tepid host had given no invitation to 
repeat the visit, and expressed no regret at its 
termination. The chill of a long parting fell on 
each as they kissed Miss Em’s cold lips, and 
heard the . strained, unnatural tones of _ her 
voice. 

But the raison d’etre puzzled them. 

As time wore on they grew more uneasy re- 
.specting her. Her letters, once so numerous 
and so full of fun and gossip, grew fewer and 
fewer, and their contents lacked interest or in- 
vention. She never hinted at any desire to see 
■ them, and told them scarcely anything of her 
own immediate life. 

'‘She was well, she had gone to a dinner-party, 
or given one.” “Miss Lustrell had done a little 
more cheese - paring in the way . of household 
economy.” “Molly was away- on a visit.”— 
These were the scanty items of news that came 
at rare intervals. Scarcely a word of herself; 
her feelings, thoughts, actions, that bright mag- 
netic mischievous anomaly which had moved 
in their immediate circle, and was so sorely 
inissed.x 


418 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


At times Lady Pat grew seriously uneasy. 
She would have gladly risked the discomfort 
of a visit to the castle, despite Sir Jasper’s 
coolness, had its mistress hinted at a desire for 
such a thing; but this she never did. 

They could but dimly guess at unhappi- 
ness, and yet shrink from uttering sjmipathy 
which was unasked — and to ail appearance 
undesired. 

One thing Lady Lustrell felt keenly in the 
new position of affairs was the want of money. 
The humiliation of refusal had once been her ex- 
perience, and then she determined never to ask 
again. 

If it had been possible to win any by her 
old luck at the card-table, she would not have 
hesitated at trying it ; but Sir J asper had a hor- 
ror of women gambling, or said so, and sternly 
forbade his wife even the innocent pastime of 
sixpenny whist. 

A swift flood of rebellion was let loose by 
reason of this mandate, and indeed Miss Em 
would have disobeyed it openly had she had the 
chance; but that was denied her. The runs 
over to the doctor’s house, the hastily got up 
rubber, the ever welcome “nap,” things pos- 
sible to the vagrant “ Miss Em,” were not 
possible to Lady Lustrell. 

For her must be the carriage drive, the state 
call, the ceremonious announcement. Frolic and 
fun were things of the past, never again to be 
indulged in. 

On every side her helplessness hedged her 


PEG, THE BAKE. 


419 


in, and she shrank alike from any appeal or 
any passionate outbreak, for fear that worse 
might happen. 

The time when she would have acted with- 
out counting the cost was gone by. She felt, 
however little she had gained, th^t she had 
still a great deal to lose. And she had re- 
solved that Mrs. O’Hara should never have 
the satisfaction of feeling she had spoiled ber 
life for her at the very crowning point of its 
success; 

So she endured, though inwardl}^ rebelling ; en- 
dured as women do and must, once they have 
fettered themselves with obligations ; but under 
her silence and passivity a dangerous hatred and 
vindictiveness lurked, like mastiffs kept in leash 
by a strong hand, but certain to break loose 
some day and spring at the throat of their ' tor- 
mentor. 


August had taken its departure. September, 
her sweet and genial sister, was breathing fresh 
and wholesome airs over the garnered harvest 
fields, ruffling the golden stubble and scarlet 
poppies, giving here and there a gentle hint of 
change in store. 

The trees in Lustrell Park were gorgeous in 
their coloring. The flushed leaves had a tremu- 
lous delight in their own beauty. Hips and 
haws glowed ruddily in the hedges; the nuts 
were hard and brown, and only the clustering 
ivy berries mourned in duller coloring among 


420 


PEG, ,THE RAKE. 


tears of dew that nightly fell through clustering 
leaves. 

The whirr of wings and crack of guns v/ere 
now daily sounds. Brilliant-hued pheasants fled 
scared into sheltermg coverts, recognizing the 
fate of their small brown sisterhood as a judg- 
ment about to fall on themselves. 

Lady Lustrell stood at her boudoir window 
one evening, watching the red glow in the' west 
with that dreary indifference now becoming 
habitual. 

“It is hateful to be alone, ’ ’ she thought, as 
her eyes caught sight of two figures ^ — only a 
farm laborer and a “colleen” — skirting a dis- 
tant field path, a right-of-way leading to the 
village. 

The girl’s scarlet petticoat made a bright 
spot of color against the russet hedge; her lithe 
form was i nstinct with natural grace. The man’s 
arm was wound about her waist in loving pro- 
prietorship, Und her dusky head leaned against 
his shoulder. 

Those tired gray eyes watched the scene with 
a sadness more mournful than tears. 

“I too might have been loved,” so her heart 
whispered; “I too might have known the 'strong 
protecting care — the manly help — the cheery 
comradeship that means so much! Qh, fool! 
fool ! fool ! For what have 1 bartered all that 
makes or means life?” 

One of those tempests of rage that in years' 
gone by had meant a revolt against all social de- 
corum shook her from head to foot. She paced 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


421 


her room like a cagea lioness, twisting her in- 
terlaced hands until the* joints ached ; her bosom 
rent and racked with stormy sighs that found no 
relief in tears. 

Suddenly came a soft tapping at the door. She 
straightened herself, and the dropped mask was 
replaced in an instant, even as she crossed the 
room and turned the key. 

There came one glad cry, almost fierce in its 
intensity of relief and surprise: “Molly! You! 
Oh, my darling, my darling!” 

Tears rained from her eyes on tlie girl’s soft 
cheek as she kissed her wildly, hungrily — as one 
kisses the one dear thing one loves in a world of 
emptiness. 

The passion and joy of her welcome startled 
and half frightened the girl, accustomed as 
she was by. now to these fits of passionate de- 
votion. 

“Yo.u poor dear, how glad you always are to 
have me back!” she said, tenderly. “Has it 
been very lonely for you this time?” 

“Lonely! it has been hateful, horrible — a liv^- 
ing death! There, there, Molly, don’t let us talk 
of it. You have come home; 1 shall be happy 
again. What a surprise, though ! —you did not 
write?” 

“1 wrote to Aunt Sabina. Didn’t she tell 
you?” 

“No,” said Miss Em, with sudden gloom; “she 
never does tell me anything now.” 

“Ah, well, we won’t mind her,” said Mol- 
ly, brightly. “You mope too much when 1 


422 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


leave you, that’s the truth. I’ve come back 
in time for the Barringtons’ ball; papa and 
Aunt Sabina won’t go, so we’ll have a fine 
lime of it.” 

“But I’ve refused!” exclaimed Miss Em. 

“ W ell, /accepted, and I can’t go-alone. They 
sent my invitation on to me at Bray. Oh, non- 
sense, you’ll have to come; it will do you a world 
of good. Why, you’ve been nowhere for months ! 
it’s quite ridiculous.” 

“1 can’t be forever wearing that green velvet. 
It’s as well known as — as your aunt’s black 
satin,” laughed Miss Eni, her spirits rising at 
the girl’s cheery voice. ' 

“Oh! we’ll concoct something,” said Molly, 
laughing also. “I’ll tell you a secret — Mrs. 
Creagh when I was leaving had to go into 
mourning suddenly, and as she’s Jtad no end 
of gorgeous gowns for Bray, she insisted on giv- 
ing me a couple. One is a peach-colored bro- 
cade, the very thi ng for you ; with the green vel- 
vet train, and the front draped with lace, you’ll 
look lovely, and every one will think it’s a new 
gown. I’m going to wear the loveliest white 
satin, made up like that old picture of Dame 
Lustrell — you know; hanging quite straight and 
with a broad sash under the arms, and my hair 
twisted high on the top of my head. What do 
you think of that idea?” 

“Lovely!” exclaimed Miss Em, warming to 
the old foolish subject as if the girl’s en- 
thusiasm had recalled her own. “But you 
couldn’t help looking lovely, my darling,” she 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


423 


added, fondly; “ it matters little what you 
wear.” 

“Oh, indeed, it matters a very great deal,” 
said the girl, merrily, “much more than you 
think. By the way,” she added, abruptly, “is 
it really true .that Minnie Barrington is en- 
gaged at last? A great match too, I heard; 
but as you’re on the spot you ought to 
know.” 

“I — I’ve heard it spoken of,” said Miss Em, 
turning away quickly. ‘ ‘ How dark it has grown, 
dear! Shall 1 ring for lights, and will you have 
tea up here? Your father and Miss Lustrell are 
dining out to-night.” 

‘ ‘ How delightful !” exclaimed Molly. ‘ ‘ I don’t 
want any dinner. Let^ have some chicken or 
something up here with our tea, and we’ll have 
a real long cozy talk over everything and every- 
body.” 

Miss Em rang the bell, and gave the necessary 
orders to her maid, who conveyed it to the 
kitchen dignitaries; and they, scenting an even- 
ing of liberty and freedom from espionage, 
readily obeyed the instructions. 

The result was that a charming little repast 
was served in Lady Lustrell’ s boudoir, with 
an absence of formality and detail that spe- 
cialized the suitability of tea-gowns, and awoke 
in Miss Em herself much of the old merriment 
and zest that the frost of Molly’s absence had 
killed. 

Miss Sabina and Sir Jasper went^ to their 
dinner-party. He captious and grumbling at 


424 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


the obligation; she sour and stiff as her wont, 
and both secretly bitter at Miss Em for ab’ 
renting ' herself on the plea of severe head- 
ache, which plea had been conveyed to them 
some half: hour before Molly’s arrival, else 
they would have suspected another cause for 
the excuse. 

Meanwhile, the two left to their own sweet 
wills enjoyed themselves immensely. They gos- 
siped of all the events, circumstances, and possi- 
bilities affecting their immediate surroundings; 
of Molly’s conquests at Bray; of Paddy Kear- 
ney’s jealousy and impatience which were rapid- 
ly threatening to break all bounds, and kept the 
girl in a state of terror. 

‘^Papa will never consent,- I’m sure of that,” 
she reiterated; ^‘and what’s the use of running 
away and getting married, when Paddy, dear 
old boy, has more debts than his income can 
cover? I’m not worldly-minded, goodness 
knows; but I know one can’t live without a 
house, and clothes, and servants, and Paddy 
is in an expensive regiment, and wouldn’t 
like his wife to be shabby, or put up in 
lodgings.” 

‘‘I wonder how it is,” said Miss Em, thought- 
fully, “that people who have wealth always make 
such a bad use of it, and those who would be glad 
to do good, or be generous, never get the chance. 
Oh, my dear, my dear, if I were only rich and 
— independent, what I might make of life, even 
now!” 

Her eyes flashed. She threw out her arms 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


425 


with a sudden gesture, as if the freedom 
she craved were within her grasp. Then as 
suddenly she let them fall, and the old 
miserable cloud of dissatisfaction fell upon 
her. 

“To have followed that will-o’-the-wisp so 
long,” she muttered to herself, forgetful even 
of the girl’s presence in her fierce regrets, 
“and to land in this quagmire of misery, 
after all!” 

“But are you so very unhappy?” asked Molly, 
softly. “I often wondered what made you marry 
papa, but 1 thought you were getting on better 
now. He is trying, I know, and as for Aunt 
Sabina — ” 

Miss Em laughed somewhat harshly. “Don’t 
let us talk about them, ” she said; “even captives 
cheat themselves into forgetfulness of their chains 
sometimes. 1 think my life has all gone wrong, 
like that of the lady in Mrs. Browning’s poem 
whose ‘spinning was all done’ ; do you remem- 
ber?” 

“1 remember,” said the girl softly, as she kissed 
the trembling lips, “one line; it is — 

i ‘ This sinner was a loving one.’ ” 

“Ah! dear heart,” cried Miss Em, drawing 
the bright young head close to her. “There 
are many sinners of whom that might be 
said; but it wins no mercy from men who 
have ruined, or women who have scorned, 
them.” 


426 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Is the world so merciless?” 

“Utterly, utterly; I speak ol^ what I know, 
Molly — what I have seen, felt, ^experienced ; for 
now life to me means only^‘?7i^ spinning is all 
done.’ ” 


J 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


m 


CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
“and wrong did teach this jesting bold.’’ 

“It is like old times!” said Miss Em, sur- 
veying breadths of peach-colored brocade which 
were being draped and arranged by Molly and 
the useful maid, upon her patient figure. 

There was no time to call in professional as- 
sistance. The dress must be ready by to-night, 
and three pair of hands worked actively to get 
it done through the bright morning hours. Miss 
Em was going through a martyrdom of pins and ' 
“tackings,” and fixing and unfixing, so as to pro- 
•duce a totally new effect from the combination 
of old and new materials. 

. The result was more than creditable to all con- 
cerned. The lovely emerald hue of the rich vel- 
vet set off the delicate tints of the brocade, which 
fell in graceful folds from throat to feet, leaving 
the beautiful arms bare. 

“I always hope 1 shall wear as well as you,” 
said Molly, admiringly. “But do you know, 
dear, you have got very thin lately?” 


428 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Yes, that is why I am eschewing low necks,” 
said Miss Em. “A woman has no right to in- 
flict her anatomy on the public gaze; a scraggy 
neck or a too plump one calls alike upon one’s 
sense of delicacy. Fashion is often idiotic, but 
it needn’t be arbitrary, if one has any sense of 
proportion or becomingness.” 

“There, we have done with you now,” said 
Molly, releasing her from her strained attitude, 
and deftly removing the gown. “I prophesy 
this will be a success, and every one will think 
it is an entirely new confection.” 

Miss . Em smiled as she assumed her ordinary 
attire. 

“I was afraid your father would object to our 
going at all,” she said presently. 

“Oh, he did at first,” said Molly, “but 1 
talked him over. I said the girls had been most 
pressing, and I had accepted, and of course 1 
couldn’t go klone. But we’re not to stay a mo- 
ment after twelve, and be and Aunt Sabina are 
going to sit up for us, to make sure we are home 
by the half-hour. How foolish to give a dance 
on a Saturday night, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Miss Em, somewhat abstracted- 
ly, as she threaded her needle; “but if you get 
there by half-past nine you will have plenty of 
time for dancing.’’ \ 

. “And two hours’ chaperonage is enough in- 
fliction for you,” said Molly, brightly; “not that 
you need be a wall-flower at all, unless you 
choose.” 

An odd smile swept over Miss Em’s face. She 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


429 ' 


wondered if Molly would notice how often now 
she was left alone, or relegated to the fossilized 
attentions of some ancient member of county so- 
ciety; if the girl’s quick eye would detect what 
to her excited fancy seemed slights, veiled only 
by polite indifference, the reason of which she 
had failed to discover. To-night would be a 
test - point. The Barringtons were in a . good 
set, and if the occasion was what gossip had de- 
clared it to be, almost every one of. any note or 
importance would be at the dance. 

Her brain was on fire with curiosity to dis- 
cover the truth of this rumor. Was Denis Mor- 
rison caught at last, and by such a shallow, ill- 
natured piece of femininity as Minnie Barrington? 
She felt thankful that the gossip had not filtered 
to Sir Jasper’s ear through any chance channel; 
thankful that he would not be present if she and 
this man had to meet at last. Meet and greet 
each other with a grave of buried memories be- 
tween; meet in bitterness and pain no longer, 
ha\ing learned life’s great lesson at last— to en- 
dure in silence, to bear with patience, to forgive 
— with charity. 

She had learned it in this hateful year of dis- 
cipline and bondage; learned it when the hot 
fires of youth had burned themselves out of her 
heart at last, lea,ving behind only gray ashes of 
hopelessness. 

The day sped on, the industrious feminine 
fingers did their work successfully and with 
unceasing patience. 

Outside the red sun glowed warmly over wood 


430 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


and stubble field and covert sides. The noise of 
birds was shrill and sweet in the ivy round the 
open windows of Miss Em’s rooms. The crack 
of sportsmen’s guns rang from time to time with 
sharp detonation on the quiet air. 

“They are shooting the new coverts, I sup- 
pose, ’’said Molly once. “I’ve heard- Mr. Mor- 
rison is a splendid shot. He has a fine property 
now, hasn^t he, with all those acres added to 
Rooklands? 1 suppose he’ll build a new house 
there when he is married.” 

“Why should he?” asked Miss Em, quick- 
ly. “Rooklands is' a beautiful old place, and 
large enough for half a dozen families, I should 
say.” 

“You know it then?” asked Molly, glancing 
up from her work. “I never heard you say you 
had been there.” 

“It was many years ago,” said Miss Em, in- 
differently, “when the old man was alive.” 

“ Wasn’t he very wicked, or something?” asked 
the girl, curiously. * ' 

“Not more wicked than many men who man- 
age to get baptized in the Jordan of respectabil- 
ity after committing every sin they feel inclined 
for,” answered Miss Em, bitterly. “Society has 
an odd way of classifying sins and sinners A 
reformed rake is generally the most circumspect 
of mortals, and he visits relentlessly on others 
those very offenses which once were so dear to 
his own heart.” 

“Then old Morrison was that sort of man?” 
queried Molly, with the curiosity of innocence 


431 


PEG, THE RAKE. 

tliat is no longer ignorant, but pitiful and full 
of wonder at what is dimly felt to be “un- 
clean.” 

“He was— that sort of man,” said Miss Em. 
“But we will not discuss him, if you please, 
Molly; it is not a subject 1 care to talk about.” 


To be late for dinner was no unusual proceed- 
ing, on the part of Lady Lustrell, and Sir Jasper 
was just beginning to fume and rage when she 
swept into the room tires a quatre (or even 
more) epingles and looking as for months she 
had not looked. 

The old man’s sharp and jealous eyes took in 
the change at once. 

“She cares how she looks to-night, ” he thought. 
“I wonder why?” 

He gave her his arm in his usual formal fash- 
ion, and they, went at once into the dining- 
room. 

“You have a new gown for this occasion, 
I perceive,” he remarked, as they crossed the 
hall. “I should scarcely have imagined it 
was important enough for so magnificent a 
toilet.” 

“The gown,” said his wife, coldly, “is only 
an old one made up again by Molly and myself. 
This piece of brocade,” and she touched the lus- 
trous silk almost fondly, “was a gift from her. 
You need not fear that my costume to-night will 
be productive of aii}^ expense to your pocket, Sir 
Jasper.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


432 

He bit his thin lips. ‘H’ra'glad to hear 
it,” he said. “It is about time you learned 
te make your allowance meet' your expendi- 
ture.” 

“Oh!” said Miss Em, with the old flippancy 
that he detested ; ‘ ‘ that would be an easy enough 
matter. Unfortunately my difficulty is to make 
my expenditure meet my allowance.” 

He could not reply, for they had reached 
the table, and she took her accustomed place 
with some of the old mocking defiance in her 
glance. 

“She is always like that when Molly is here,” 
thought the old man, “one abets the other. I’ve 
a gj*eat mind to forbid them going to-night. 
jSTo, no soup,” he added, irritably, to the butler, 
“that fool of a cook can no more make clear soup 
tlian fly. You know I never touch it.” 

“No one can make soup without the necessary 
ingredients,” observed Miss Em, also declining 
the proffered plate. “The cooking here is ex- 
pected to be done on the same principle as the 
Egyptians ordered bricks from the Israelites.” 

^ “I never encourage waste and extravagance,” 
snapped Miss Sabina, taking a spoonful of the 
weak, muddy liquid, for appearance’ sake. 

“You can’t encourage what does not exist,” 
observed Miss Em. “ Waste, not to mention ex- 
V travagance, presupposes something to waste, or^ 
to squander; a microscope wouldn’t discover 
either in the Castle Lustrell kitchens.” 

“And a very good thing too,” interposed Sir 
Jasper, irritably. “One family ruined through 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


433 


extra v^agance is warning enough of some per- 
sons’ ideas of housekeeping.” 

^ “You wouldn’t particularize ih.Q persons would 
you, Sir Jasper?” questioned Miss Em, delighted 
at provoking a passage of arms. “Hints and 
generalities are so confusing.” 

She glanced at the old, wizened, cynical face, 
aged so much, wrinkled and soured so much, 
even in this brief year. How hateful it was to 
her ! Hov/ she longed to dash his insults back, 
to spring to her feet and sound the war-note of 
defiance as once she had deemed it would be so 
easy to do ! 

If she oiAj* dared! 

A moment of sharp consciousness showed her ' 
Temptation and Danger side by side holding out 
inviting hands Then her new unnatural self 
came to the rescue, and the apparitions fied into 
the shadowy background from whence they had 
spuing. 

“A letter for you, my lady,” said a voice at 
her elbow. The footman was holding out a 
salver toward her half apologetically. “The 
messenger said it was immediate and to be 
delivered without delay,” he Rdded, as he 
met his master’s cold and sternly- questioning 
eyes. 

“Excuse me,” muttered Miss Em, hurriedly, 
as she turned a little aside and tore open the 
letter. 

It was from Dr. MaeShamus. A few lines 
only, a few lines that seemed to her to run in 


434 


PEG, TPIE RAKE. 

mad, zigzag fashion up and down the paper. A 
few lines— well, death-warrants are brief, they 
say. 


“Dear Lady Lustrell — Come at onee to 
Rooklands. I don’t say if you can, for a dy- 
ing man asks for you; he has not long to live, 
and this is his one cry. I wait for you here. 

“J. MacShamus.” 

A dying man asks for you! 

She folded the note mechanically. She felt 
her face growing stiff and cold and white be- 
neath its delicate rouge. How still the room 
was, and what a strange song some one was 
singing! She had been so fond of that song 
once — a man’s voice, tender and low, used to 
sing it so often. . . . 

Was that an elm bough tap, tap, tapping so 
persistently at the window? ... 

A dying man asks for you! 

A sharp thrill of agony pierced the momentary 
stupefaction. She must act, pretend, scheme, 
just a little while longer; the curtain could not 
fall yet, the play was not over. A little while 
she must hold the stage, and then, nothing 
would matter, happen what might, nothing 
would matter any — any more. 

“Are you deaf, Emilia? or what is this im- 
portant message?” asked Sir Jasper, sharply. 
“This is the second time I’ve put the inquiry.” 

“I beg your pardoiiv” she answered. “I— I 
was thinking. Oh! it’s nothing important. 


435 


PEG, THE RAKE. 

You needn’t wait,” she added, impatiently, to 
the footman. “But tell them to be punctual 
with the carriage.” 

“You kept dinner waiting nearly half ah 
hour,” said Sir Jasper, glancing at the time- 
piece on the carved oak mantel. “Let me see, 
nine to twelve. You can leave here at a quarter 
to nine, it will take half an hour to drive, and 
you are to leave a quarter before twelve sharp ; 
do you hear?” 

“I hear,”' said Miss Em, stonily. 

dying man calls for youP^ And she 
must cat and drink, and sit on here listening to 
this old man’s maddening twaddle — this old 
man, her husband, who had no right to be her 
husband, who had taken the place of that other. 

. . . But she must not think, she must not let 
that weak, strained brain run off the beaten 
track so long laid down for it. 

How her heart beat! its quick, painful throbs 
hurt her. How long the moments were, how 
wearily they dragged ! 

The carriage at last ! 

She rose with a half-suppressed cry. She was 
dimly conscious of orders and behests, but they 
all rang unintelligibly in her ears. She felt 
Molly’s light touch on her arm, the breath of 
the cool night air was on her face ; then the ten- 
sion. snapped. 

The time for fear was over, and the time for 
action had come. 

“Molly,” she cried, wildly, “1 am not going 
with you to this ball. I — cannot. I shall get 


436 


. PEG, THE RAKE. 


out of the carriage as we pass Rooklands, and 
you must go alone. . . . Do you hear, child? 
. . . I — I canH see you.” She put her hands 
to her head in a sudden dazed way. “I’ve been 
summoned to some one who is dying— dying, 
Molly. Some one I used to love when I was a 
girl like you.” 

“Oh, my dear, my dear, try and calm your- 
self. Is it so very bad? Perhaps there is some 
mista ke. ’ ’ 

“There was a mistake— once,” said Miss Em, 
drearily. “A mistake which set two lives wrong 
forever. There is no mistake now, Molly. Go 
to your ball, my dear, and be happy. All your 
life is before you; all mine will soon be in a 
grave.” 

Puzzled and distracted, the girl knew not how 
to reply. It was all so strange, so sudden, so 
bewildering. Rooklands, too, where Denis 
Morrison lived — Denis Morrison, who they 
said was to be the hero of this evening’s en- 
tertainment. 

The carriage stopped suddenly. Miss Em had 
pulled the check-string, and now the door was 
open and the astonished footman waiting by the 
step. 

“Shall I call back for you?” asked Molly, still 
bewildered. 

“No,” answered Miss Em, sharply. “I shall 
be sent back; do not trouble.” 

She drew her cloak closely round her, and 
hurried up the avenue with swift, uneven 
steps. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


437 


The door was open. 

A flood of light poured itself redly over the 
lawn which led to the great dark mansion. 

Miss Em shuddered; it was like blood. A 
warm bright crihrison stream flowing down to 
her feet. 

She hurried in, dimly conscious of a hand that 
helped her swajdng steps ; of a voice, the kind 
cheery voice of Dr. MacShamus, entreating, 
soothing, explaining. 

An accident — a gunshot wound. That was 
what he said. A gunshot wound, apd sheliad 
been fri voting with laces and satins, and all the 
folly and fantasy of millinery, when the sharp 
crack of a rifle had sounded in the still Septem- 
ber air, and meant — this. 

Oh, foolish, short-sighted mortality that is too 
clogged and qoarse for any prescience of doom ! 
that cannot foresee danger or fsel peril to the 
dearest treasure of its heart ! 

“Calm — 1 am quite calm, doctor, do not_ fear. 
It is not noiu \ shall break down or forget my- 
self.” ■ ^ ■ 

Then she was in a vast dimly-lighted room. 
The scents of chloroform and ether were heavy 
on the air. Before her, as. she stood in the door- 
way, was a large, old-fashioned bed, the hang- 
ings all drawn back for air, and lying on it — the 
handsome leonine head helpless on its pillows — 
was the stricken flgure of a dying man. 

Dying? Yes. One glance told her that, even 
as the heavy glazed eyes met her own — as the 
arms, helpless now as a year-old child’s, stretched 


438" PEG, THE BAKE. 

themselves feebly toward her in the gathering 
gloom. 

Then one low sobbing cry thrilled the silence: 
“Denis, Denis! — oh! my lover"* 

The door was softl}" closed. 

What those two breaking hearts had to con- 
fess or to atone for, was not for alien ears to 
hear! 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


439 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

“the SECRET IS OUT.” 

It was scarcely midnight when the Castle Lus- 
trell carriage returned. Sir Jasper and his sis- 
ter were sitting together in the - hall ; he moody 
and absorbed, stretching thin hands to the wel- 
come warmth of the fire; she busy 'over some 
coarse wool-work destined to rasp the skin of 
some grateful, but thriftless, dependent on the 
Castle charities. 

“They are back in good time,” she observed, 
as the man opened the outer door. 

Sir Jasper said nothing; his eyes, turned in. 
the direction of the approaching figure, gave one 
startled glance beyond it, then remained fixecl 
on the pale^ face and wondering gaze of his 
daughter. 

“Why are you alone? Has Lady Lustrell re- 
niained on and allowed j'ou to return by your- 
self?” he demanded in tho_se icy, self-control led 
tones that betokened intense irritation. 

“Is she not here?” faltered Molly, her face . 
and lips growing white as her gown. 


440 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


“Here? How should she be here before you?’’ 
snapped Aunt Sabina, pushing the glasses back 
from her eyes, and surveying her niece with un- 
disguised astonishment. 

Molly still stood there like one frozen into pas- 
sivity She seemed lost in thought, only her 
eyes still glanced here and there as if entreating 
some one in biding to come forth and play no 
more tricks. 

“What is the meaning of this? Can’t you 
speak?” thundered Sir Jasper. 

The girl started, and the warm color hushed 
her face nervously. 

“She . . . she did not go to the ball,” she 
faltered. “She stayed — on the way — to see a 
friend who was ill. L thought she would have 
been home before this.” 

Sir Jasper’s white wrinkled face took a sudden 
sickl}^ pallor. He sank into his seat without a 
word, and Miss Sabina indulged in a prolonged 
snort. 

“I really wonder what next vagary we shall 
hear of on the part of Lady Lustrell,” she re- 
marked. “She gets more eccentric and unac- 
countable every day.” 

“Did she tell you,” demanded Sir Jasper, sud-- 
denly, “who had written her that letter?” 

“No,” answered the girl in the same frightened 
way. 

“Where did she leave you?” 

“At Rooklands,” answered Molly, unhesitat- 
ingly. 

“TL/mf.'” thundered Sir Jasper, springing 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


441 


from his seat as if shot. “You’re mad, girl; 
don’t tell me she dared set foot there! It’s pre- 
posterous, impossible!” 

“Hush, oh hush!” cried the girl in sudden 
pitiful entreaty. “1 hear wheels. She has re- 
turned. Don’t condemn her until ydu have heard 
what she has to say ! 1 am sure she can explain 

everything. ’ ’ 

She did not wait for the ring that might have 
followed, but flew' across the hall and in an in- 
stant had the door open, while her glad cry of 
relief d;old those waiting beyond who it was that 
stood on the threshold. 

Without a word, without the faintest notice 
of the girl’s tender greeting, Lady Lustrell put 
her quietly aside and moved on up the hall with 
the slow measured st&p of a sleep-walker. Her 
face was ashy white, her eyes had a curious glit- 
ter, her hands alone seemed to have any life or 
movement as they twitched nervously at the 
fastening of her heavy cloak. 

Sir Jasper was still standing in the same atti- 
tude. ■ . 

Miss Sabina, her work resting on her knees, 
her sharp, ill-natured face alert and curious, 
glanced from one to the other, wondering if the 
hour had come at last; the hour for which she 
had waited so long and so patiently; the hour 
which should see her enemy overthrown and her- 
self triumphant. Molly, a^vhite, trembling fig- 
ure, hovered in the background, forgotten by 
all. 

A few paces in front of her husband. Lady 


442 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


Lustrell halted. The cloak was unclasped at last. 
She threw it off with a sudden gesture, and 
tossed it aside on to the seat upon which Sir 
Jasper had been sitting. 

Something in her face, her air, her very si- 
lence, betokened a change. A change such as 
might befall a prisoner hearing innocence as a 
verdict after long v^reeks of suspense; a change 
such as the announcement of victory might bring 
to the flagging energies of the weary soldier ; a 
change — something indefinable but eloquent — as 
her eyes met those of the man who had played 
the part of judge to such a prisoner, enemy to 
such a warrior. 

The hour had come. Miss Sabina was right. 
The two opponents faced each other for the com- 
ing battle, the last they would ever fight, the 
decisive conflict that would henceforth alter their 
relative positions. 

Sir Jasper, with weak-minded fury, made the 
first attack. 

“Where have you been, madam?” he de- 
manded. 

“I have been,” she said, “tP Rooklands — at 
Denis Morrison’s request.” 

“You dared to go there! to that low-born vil- 
lain’s house —against my express commands — 
against your own promise? You stand there 
and tell me this?” 

Low as muttered thunder, but awful in its in- 
tensity of rage, every accent of the old man’s 
voice fell on the ears of the startled listeners. 

His wife lifted her head, the light flashing on 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


443 


the beautiful snowy hair and the diamonds that 
nestled amid its masses. “Yes; I dared to go 
there, Sir Jasper,” she said, quietly. “I would 
have, dared a great deal more than your wrath 
to give an hour’s comfort to Denis Morrison.” 

“You say this — to me— to my face?” he thun- 
dered, furiously. “Do you forget the penalty? 
Do you forget what 1 told you when 1 learned 
your miserable secret?” 

“I forget —nothing, ” she ansvvered, tranquil- 
ly. “I will repeat your words for the edification 
of your daughter and sister. I think they were 
to this effect : ‘If you ever cross Denis Morrison’s 
threshold, if you so much as touch his hand in 
greeting, I will send you from my roof; 1 will 
tell the world you have cheated so long the real 
history of Peg, the Rake.’ Well, Sir Jasper, I 
have crossed Denis Morrison’s threshold; I have 
touched Denis Morrison’s hand; nay more — his 
lips. More true to him in death than in life, 1 
have come from his side now — come here to you 
— and 1 bid you do your worst. Tell my story • 
to the world — your paltry, miserable world that 
flatters and fawns on you to your face and mocks 
at you behind your back! Tell it — cry it from 
the housetops if you please! 1 fear you no 
longer. You are nothing to me — do you hear, 
nothing? —from this hourP^ 

Sir Jasper’s face could not grow whiter than 
it was, but surely never in human voice had 
sounded malice so deep, hatred so intense, as 
now sounded in his.' 

“You are madj to say such things; but 1 can 


444 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


excuse you to-night; to-morrow it will be a dif- 
ferent story — to-morrow when the tale of your 
shame rings in every decent house. You, the 
cast-off mistress of a low-born bastard, who 
schemed and trapped an honest man into mak- 
ing her his wife!” 

“Stop!” she cried, for that low moan from 
Molly cut her to the heart — Molly who, trem- 
bling like a leaf, had sunk down by Miss Sa- 
bina’s side, and buried her shamed young face 
from sight. 

“For your daughter’s sake,” she went on, 
the long restrained passion breaking dangerous- 
ly into her voire at last, “stop! — I am not what 
you say! I never was! The secret of Denis 
Morrison’s birth is known at last. He was his 
father’s lawful son — you will all learn that soon. 
He—” 

“1 don’t believe it. He was a liar, a villain, 
a blackguard, from his youth up!” 

The light, stinging touch of a gloved hand 
smote back that lie upon his cruel lips. 

The wild O’Hara blood was up at last, flam- 
ing in face, and eye, and stormy gesture of the 
woman whom long repression had wellnigh 
maddened, who, in such a moment as this, 
could count no cost, hesitate at no sacrifice; 
who would have faced peril, pain, death, un- 
flinchingly, for the one dearly-bought relief of 
giving rein to the long pent-up passions of her 
nature. Nothing could have stayed her; not 
Molly’s piteous entreaty; not Miss Sabina’s hor- 
rified cry; not Sir Jasper’s white face- of fury; 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


445 


not one or all of these. She seized the diamonds 
in her hair and threw them at his feet, the costly 
bracelets on her bare arms followed them, the 
very rings she tore from her white fingers in the 
raging, senseless fury that makes unoffending 
things at times so hateful. 

“Take back your gifts, take back everything 
with which you bought me,” she cried. “1 
warned you once not to try me too far. You 
stepped beyond that boundary when you called 
me Denis Morrison’s mistress. Hear the truth 
at last ! I was Denis Morrison'^ s wife! 1 was 
never— yours.” 

The blank horror of the silence that followed 
was only broken by the soft gliding sound of a 
velvet train sweeping away— away— into the 
darkness beyond. 


/ 





446 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


CHAPTER XL. 

“old sins have long shadows.” 

The silence of the room was only broken by 
a girl’s low, heart-broken sobs; those terrible 
sobs that tell of youth’s disillusion, and of the 
horror and shrinking and disbelief that make up 
the sum total of such disillusion. 

On the floor lay the costly satin dress where 
it had fallen disregarded from the pretty figure, 
the figure that lay on the little white bed with 
loose falling hair tossed wildly over bare arms 
and heaving shoulders — a pathetic picture of 
sorrow and desolation. 

Outside, the unquiet darkness was filled by 
wild gusts of wind and rain, the clouds chased 
each other stormily, and through their rents the 
stars looked out at some chance interval. The 
trees showered golden tributes over the sodden 
grass below, the autumn flowers lay wet and 
beaten across the devastated beds and gravel 
paths. 

In the faint east a yellow light touched softly 
the surrounding gray, powerless as yet to lift 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


447 


Night’s dusky curtain from the world where 
the travail of humanity cried out to heaven in 
prayers of broken hearts, and lives left desolate 
cried as Faith bade, as creeds had taught, as 
misery, even hopeless, unrelieved — impelled. 

Some such prayer moaned out at intervals 
from those girlish lips. ^‘1 loved her so! 1 
thought her so good ! 0 God ! it can’t be true ; 

don’t let it be true; better she were mad, as they 
say.” 

“Molly!” The low pained beseeching in the 
voice made the girl start; she raised herself on 
one arm and her wide, tear- filled eyes met the 
quiet, steady gaze of what she dimly felt was 
“sorrow beyond all words.” 

“Molly, I have come to bid you good-by; I 
am going away, I shall never come back here 
any more. But, before I go, I should like^ to 
tell you something of my story — my miserable 
story. You will hear it on many tongues, no 
doubt; but let me tell you the truths the plain 
simple truth. Molly, don’t cry so! Oh! my 
dear, I’m not worth your tears, try and think 
that.” 

She sank slowly down on her knees beside the 
low white bed; with one hand clasped in tbe 
girl’s feverish palm she began to speak: 

“Youf heard what 1 said to-night, Molly. It 
was true ; but I did not know 1 was legally bound 
to Denis Morrison when I promised to be your fa- 
ther’s wife. 1 was but a girl like yourself when 
I fled with him from my father’s roof, against 
his commands. Denis Morrison had a bad name 


448 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


here, partly deservred no doubt, but I was reck- 
less and hot-blooded and self-willed, and I — loved 
him. God help us O’Haras when we love or 
hate! We reck nothing of consequences, and 
I — I was only a motherless, passionate, head- 
strong girl; I never thought; 1 never cared. I 
went to my fate as thoughtlessly as a child to its 
play, and that fate made me Denis Morrison’s 
wife. We were to go to America, he and I; I 
had left a note for my father to tell him so. We 
traveled separately to avert suspicion ; but in the 
same train was a — a friend of mine, the best and 
truest friend I’ve ever known; and he saw us 
and suspected something, and sent a message to 
my father.” 

She paused and pushed the thick soft hair from 
lier brow with a sudden weary gesture. “I grow 
confused; that time was always like a dream, 
a dream broken in its gladness and beauty by 
some hideous nightmare. I only know that at 
Liverpool we were overtaken by my father and 
this — this friend. There was a dreadful scene. 
My father called Denis that name you heard to- 
night — what — what every one here had believed 
him; but I had never known that, Molly, and 
the horrible humiliation of it nearly killed me. 
T —I was so proud, and I had been spoiled and 
made so much of, and I could not bear to think 
T had fallen so low as to become the wife of a — 
what they called him. He did not deny it, even 
when ’I entreated. How could he? he never 
knew the truth himself until his father’s death. 
He was purposely kept in ignorance, because old 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


449 


Morrison hated him for his mother’s fault, and 
on his innocent head visited her sins. Oh, Molly ! 
I can’t paint that scene. It was awful, horrible, 
and he — he was so cold and proud. ‘If you can- 
not trust my word,’ he said, ‘go back to your 
father. I have no name to give you, and we 
are not married, legally — yet.’ I started. I 
could not believe it, Molly; but what did I know 
of forms and ceremonies, and how could I think 
his pride was great as my own, or that he wanted 
to prove my love? Molly, as he said tliat^ my 
father struck him to the ground. I — I remem- 
ber no more ; they took me home again, and he, 
Denis Morrison, went to America alone. The 
story of my flight was never known ; that friend 
never betrayed me, but it nearly broke my fa- 
ther’s heart. He thought he must have some 
one to look after me, to watch me in the future, 
and so he married again, and my life became 
one of martyrdom and misery. I had blighted 
all the happiness of youth ; I had brought shame 
and grief on the dear old man whose only fault 
had been to love me far too well. I had nothing 
to look forward to, for I could never, never marry ; 
so, at least, I told myself, and so I resolved. I 
kept the resolution, too, Molly, for more than 
twenty years. And all that time, a lifetime it 
must seem to yeu, 1 never had word or sign from 
Denis Morrison. I never knew whether he was 
alive or dead. I thought I had outlived all ten- 
derness, and almost all memory of him. As I 
grew older and learned more of life, I taught 
myself to hate him. I would not, of my own 


450 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


free will, have touched his hand or have looked 
into his face again. But also, as I grew older, 
Molly, I craved for wealth, freedom, luxury, all 
the good things that other women reveled in, 
that I must always be denied. I knew that only 
a wealthy marriage could give me these things, 
but 1 shrank again and again from the tempta- 
tion; at last your father asked me to be his 
wife. You know what I told you that night, 
Molly, before I had given my answer. You 
know a word from you could have influenced 
me as nothing else could have done. You did 
not speak that word.” 

“How — how could 1?” sobbed the girl, broken- 
ly. “I loved you, I believed in you, I thought 
we should be so happy.” 

A shiver ran through the kneeling figure. 
“Happy— Ah! dear heaven! — that old dream, 
that old will-o’-the-wisp, Molly. I was never 
happy; not for one single hour. Dearly indeed 
have I bartered the liberty I so long cherished. 
Your father learned my secret; I will not tell 
3:^011 how; sufficient that he knew it, and used it 
as a rod of humiliation for every hour of my life 
here. But for you I could not have endured it; 
I should have left him, reckless of consequences, 
but I boro it and struggled on, and thought to 
live down that hateful past in tinle. Ah ! Molly, 
old sins have long shadows. The shadow of 
mine has fallen now; darkly, miserably, never 
to rise again !” 

The gray uplifted face, framed in snow-white 
hair, the glittering eyes, burning as with hidden 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


451 


fever, terrified the girl. But the old love and 
pity svvept aside all other feelings; the warm 
trusting young heart cried out in defiance of 
worldly wisdom, and tried to comfort the dis- 
traught sinner whom henceforth all would con- 
demn. 

“My dear, my poor dear, how you have 
suffered!” 

Suffered!— my God!” 

She rose unsteadily and stood there looking 
down at the sorrowful young face, held uncon- 
sciously by the tender arms. 

“Suffering is a wide word, Molly. May you 
never know it as I have known it ! but you never 
wull ; you are too sweet and innocent and good. 
If I could make you happy, dear, I should die 
content. There is no one in all the world 1 love, 
now, besides yourself — I, who but a few hours 
ago thought that all the worth of life would be 
mine were I only rich and free. Molly, I am 
rich now. Rich beyond my wildest dreams — 
the holder of Denis Morrison’s wealth. Free, as 
I have never thought to be free, because I count 
your father’s claim on me as naught. I have all 
I once prayed for, and it is useless. So are 
prayers granted. Remember that, dear heart, 
and now — ” 

“No, no— not good-by! I can’t let you go, I 
won’t let you go. You are ill, fevered, unfit — 
you must not!” 

Slowly, heavily the great tears fell on the girl’s 
uplifted face; tears wrung from the woman’s 
very soul,, in the keenest anguish that had ever 


452 


PEG, THE BAKE. 

rent it. For this love was pure — a blessing, not 
an evil — a rest, not a consumi ng fire ; it was the 
one innocent spontaneous gift that life had ever 
bestowed on her, and she must put it aside for 
evermore. 

Harder task she had never set herself, harder 
task she felt it was not in life to demand from 
her again. 

“Don’t hold me — don’t tempt nie!” she cried, 
hoarsely, and with sudden fierceness she un- 
wound the tender clinging arms, and with one 
hurried kiss on the quivering lips she closed their 
j)leading, and went forth carrying her cross of 
suffering — alone. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


453 


CHAPTER XLL 

“this sinner was a loving ONE.’’ 

“Miss Peg, darlin’, I’m here. It’s not for 
the likes o’ me to be expressin’ surprise, but 
whin I got yer summons this mornin’, and 
Biddy the kitchen-maid read out the writin’ to 
me (all printed be thim newfangled telegram 
wires, she said) you cud have knocked the legs 
from under me wid a feather, that you cud. 
Howsomediver, I jest put up me bundle, and 
laves word for the misthress that I’m off to Dub- 
lin to jine ye at the Gresham Hotel ; an’ here 1 
am alive, faith, an’ that’s jest all, for sich a 
journey 1 niver tuk, an’ what wid the scraachin’ 
o’ that in jin, an’ the noise an’ smoke an’ confu- 
sion, shure, ’tisn’t meself as knows how I iver 
got here at all. But the saints forgive me for 
lettin’ me tongue run away wid me ! What’s 
the matter wid yerself. Miss Peg? yez look white 
and drawn as a ghost; is it ill ye are, me darl- 
in’?” 

“I — I am afraid so, Quinny,” came the Ian- 


454 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


guid answer — so languid that the very effort at 
speaking made the white face whiter. “And if 
I should be ill again I wanted to feel you were 
near me, you — only you. Don’t let any one else 
come ; promise me. ’ ’ 

“Shure, an’ I won’t, darlin’, if ye don’t wish 
it. But yer only fancyin’ things, maybe, an’ 
the journey’s upset ye. Let me bring ye a sup 
o’ soup an’ a glass av good wine, an’ then you 
jist go to bed an’ slape; shure, yer eyes tells 
me it’s not a blessed wink ye’v had this last 
night.” 

“And for many, many nights before, Quinny. 
Oh, I wish I could sleep. But there, dear old 
soul, get me what you wish, do what you like. 
I’ve a task to accomplish before I rest — 1 must 
do it and you must help me.” 

“Help ye, is it? Shure, Miss Peg darlin’, 
ye know I’d buy the very gun av ye tould me 
ye wanted to shoot any one ! Help ye ! is there 
anything in the wide world I wudn’t do for 
ye?” 

Tears came into Miss 'Em’s dry and burning 
eyes as they turned to the old woman’s wrinkled 
face. “How faithful you have been always! 
How little I deserv^e it!” 

“Well, darlin’, we won’t be talkin’ av sich 
nonsinse now. I’ll just go an’ ax the waiter 
for the soup an’ wine, an’ faith ’tis a different 
craythur ye’ll be after that.” 

The refreshment was brought and Miss Em 
took it; the effort was visible enough, but Quin 
Ian made no remark on it. As soon as the last 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


455 


mouthful was swallowed she assisted Miss Ein 
to the adjoining bedroom and made her lie down 
on the comfortable bed, and covered her up 
warmly before she departed on that mission 
which was so feverishly entreated of her. 

“Though what she’s wantin’ wid a lawyer, 
an’ the cleverest an’ best in Dublin, she sez, 
bates me altogether. Maybe ’tis a divorce or a 
siparation from that ould curmudgeon av a hus- 
band, bad cess to him, bringin’ a foine woman 
as she was two years ago to sich a wreck as she 
is. Ah, ’twas a sorry day whin she married 
him, an’ she’d better have let it alone after all^ 
an’ remained a single woman — in spite av the 
cards. ’ ’ 

It was late when the old woman returned from 
her errand, and brought back the answer to Miss 
Em’s note. 

She was lyitig just as she had left her; the 
wide burning eyes unclosed and uncalmed by 
any welcome touch of sleep; the pallor of her 
face intensified by the two bright spots that spoke 
of fever even more plainly than dry hand and 
hurrying pulse. 

The effort to rise was so plainly an effort that 
Quinlan sternly forbade it. “Shure the gintle- 
man can jist do his bizness wid ye here,” sho 
said, imperatively. “Though ’tis a docthor ye 
need more than a lawyer, an’ a docthor ye’ll be 
seein’ before anither hour is over, or ’tis I’ll 
know the raisin why.” 

Miss Em made uo answer. She felt she was 
very ill, and might be worse, and she could not 


456 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


allow herself to be so until this self-appointed 
task was done. After that nothing would mat- 
ter, but she needed all her calmness and all her 
strength 'just for a few hours longer. 

The lawyer came and found her sitting up in 
her room beside a table on which were pens, ink 
and paper. She impressed him as a singularly 
good business woman, so calm was her manner, 
so clear her instructions, so concise and to the 
point the few questions she deemed necessary. 

“You are quite sure,” he asked as the deed- 
was drawn up and the signature alone needed, 
“quite sure that you care to benefit no one else 
with this munificent bequest. It is all to go to 
this young lady —who is no- relation — I under- 
stand you to say. ’ ’ 

“Quite sure. 1 wish her to have it all. She 
is of age, there need be no waiting.” 

“Oh, my dear madam, let us trust for yom- 
sake there will be. It is not a necessary con- 
clusion to the making of a will that the tes- 
tator should immediately benefit his or her heirs. 
'No other legacy— except this one to your old 
nurse?” 

“None.” 

“Then we are ready for signatures.” 

“You are quite sure it is correct? The money 
is not absolutely mine yet. The formalities may 
need a week, a month, or even more.” 

“That ig of no consequence. You state — ‘Ail 
I possess^ or to which I may be entitled at the 
time of my demise;’ that conveys possible fortune 
that may accrue to you.” 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


457 


“No one could dispute this — upset it; no one 
who had a spite against me?’’ 

“My dear lady,” exclaimed the astonished 
lawyer, “it is as valid and regular as possible 
once it is signed and witnessed. We had better 
have two of the hotel people to do that. Your 
old nurse benefits under this clause so she must 
not sign. Shall I ring?” 

“Certainly,” said Miss Em, the brilliant color 
flushing her cheeks, with momentary excitement, 
blit her hand steady as a rock as she took the 
23en from his fingers; 

“Ah, so ’tis makin’ her last will an’ tistay- 
ment she is, the craythur,” murmured Quinlan, 
as she received the order and took in the scene 
with a rapid glance. “Well, maybe ’twill set 
her mind at ease; 1 niver remimber seein’ her 
in so moithered a state, an’ lookin’ so quare an’ 
wild, jist as she did whin she was off her head 
that time.” 


“Quinny,” said Miss Em, “are you there?” 

It was quite dark now, for she would have no 
lights in the room, only through the open door 
came the faint gleam of a lamp from the room 
beyond. 

“Shure, me blessed darlin’, it’s not moved^ 
nor stirred I have this last hour. 1 thought ye 
was aslape.” 

“No; 1 feel as if I should never sleep again; I 
fear I’m going to be very ill, Quinny.” 

“Don’t be thinkin’ ony such thing, darlin’. 


458 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


’Tis worryin^ yer poor brain ye are, an’ all for 
nothing.” 

“They told me if ever I had a recurrence of 
that fever, it would mean one of two things — 
death or madness. Oh, Quinny, I’ve prayed 
against that horror with ail my soul and strength ; 
better to die, than — ” 

“Ah, musha now. Miss Peg, wid sich tadk! 
dying, not a bit av it. ’ ’ 

“Hush, Quinny, dear, I — I want to speak to 
you of — many things; let me say them while 1 
can think clearl 3 ^ If I should get worse send 
for Doctor MacShamus; he will understand. 
Under my pillow you \Vill find a packet of let- 
ters; give them to him after I have gone. I 
want no one with me but you. It is strange, 
1 have always had the idea that I should die — 
alone. ’ ’ 

A bitter cry, quickly suppressed, came from 
the old woman’s lips, falling like a discordant 
note on the faltering sweetness of the other 
voice. 

“Don’t grieve for me, Quinny, you faithful 
old soul. After all, we had a ‘grand time’ to- 
gether as you used to say. And perhaps some 
one higher than priests or saints won’t be as 
hard on my, wickedness and waywardness as the 
world. I wish I had been a good woman, 
Quinny. What was that Molly said to me 
once?— ‘You’re such a good woman!’ I — are 
you laughing, Quinny;’ — I tried to laugh, but 
it hurt me. I, who know how wicked and how 
worthless my life has been. I should like to 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


459 


have been good for her sake. I might have 
been, once, but 1 lost my way, somehow. There 
are so many roads in life, and 1 took a wrong 
one — and I never got back again.” 

“Ah, Miss Peg darlin’, don’t be breakin’ the 
heard; av me wid yer quare talk. Shure, yer an 
angel av goodness. Sorra a better one I’d nade 
to show me the road to heaven’s glory! Try an’ 
rest yer poor head, an’ don’t be thinkin’ av all 
yer troubles an’ vexations. They’re over now. 
Shure, didn’t ye tell me ye’d been left the big- 
gest fortune in the county, an’ don’t I see ye 
at the spendin’ av it, an’ the foine times once 
more! Dyin’, is it? sorra a bit. ’Tis yerself 
will be laughin’ at the very iday in a week’s 
time !” 

“Quinny, you're crying— 1 hear the tears in 
your voice.” 

“Cryin’! not a bit av it, Miss Peg; wud 1 be 
cry in’ over sich foolish talk? Now close yer 
eyes, darlin’, and I’ll jist sing ye to slape as av 
ye were a little child again in the ould nursery 
at Carrig'duve.” . 

“A little child! Oh, the weary, weary years! 
Your arms held me first, Quinny; let them be 
the last about me when — when I put out on the 
dark, lonely sea. How frightened I used to feel 
of it once. But I’m too tired now to feel even 
—frightened. Quinny, it’s getting very dark. 
JFold something cold and tight about my head. 
All, that is good! Now sit beside me and hold 
my hand— so — and don’t loose it, Quinny, until 
you know I am not talking sensibly any more. 


460 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


And tell Molly I want her to be happy. She 
will make better use of money than 1 could ever 
have done. . . . You’ll remember. ” 

“I’ll remimber, darlin’. ’ 

“Then, Quinny, kiss me and say ‘God bless 
you ’ — tvhile I knoiv.'*'’ 


Fainter and fainter came the broken words, 
losing purpose and coherence, drifting aimlessly 
across a sea of troubled thoughts and anxious 
memories; now steadied by strong effort; again 
breaking loose from the resolute mooring of the 
tortured brain. 

Long before the kindly voice of Dr. Mac- 
Shamus had given sad affirmation to the first 
verdict uttered by a stranger’s lips, Quinlan had 
recognized that nothing could be done. 

“I warned her,” said the faithful old friend, 
as he stood listening to the feeble voice growing 
feebler every hour, but never for one moment 
ceasing its pitiful, monotonous chatter. “I told 
her human strength could never undergo such 
another ordeal ; and her strength has been taxed 
beyond even that. I know her life as no one else 
knows it.” 

Messages with their note of alarm flew hither 
and thither; Lady Pat and Miss Bedelia came 
hurrying to their favorite’s side — never again to 
meet recognition or greeting from those babbling, 
unconscious lips. 

Slowly the dawn broke, and the day moved 
on to eventide. With every hour the sapped. 


PEG, THE RAKE. 461 

unnatural strength yielded itself to that resist- 
less foe whose strength none may combat. 

Once more twilight fell soft as a shadowy 
veil over the quiet room, touching with tender 
grace the now exhausted form by which such 
faithful love still watched, forgetful of life’s 
follies and youth’s errors, forgetful of all save 
the kindly heart and generous nature that were 
only to be a memory henceforward. 

Twilight, and gray shadows, and a sudden 
hushed stillness. 

Dr. MacShamus’s hand rested with kindly 
touch on Quinlan’s arm as she brought a fresh 
iced bandage. 

“She will not need any more,” he said, 
huskily. 

Their eyes, tear - filled, but resigned now, 
turned as by one common impulse to the face 
on the pillows. A change, subtle, faint,, but 
strangely beautiful, had come over it. Just 
for one second’s space the lids quivered, opened 
—then fell — curtaining the mystery that the 
wisest may not know — the mystery that si- 
lences even human agony by its whisper, “God 
knows best.” 


In the library of Castle Lustrell Molly and 
Paddy Kearney were standing hand in hand, 
their faces grave even in the gladness of a sanc- 
tioned betrothal, their eyes thoughtfully resting 
on a letter the girl had been reading. 

“Poor Miss Em !” said Paddy at last. “What 


462 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


a strange life, and what a secret to hold in it all 
these years! But, Molly, darling, what adegacy 
to leave you : why, you’re the biggest heirOss in 
the county. Faith, sweetheart, I’m a bold man 
to be asking you to marry me.” 

“But, Paddy, it isn’t as if you’d only asked 
me now. We’ve loved each other too long for 
any nonsense of this sort to part us. ’ ’ 

“Nonsense? She calls £15,000 a year non- 
sense ! My darling, do you know I shall be the 
envy of every man who’s ever had the felicity 
of saying good-morning to you? I’m only sur- 
prised your farther has consented.” 

“He’s too broken down now to care much 
what I do. I — I don’t think he’ll live long, 
PciduT,” she went on, sadly. “It was a ter- 
ril'e blow to his pride. Oh! how glad 1 am no 
one knows it but just — ourselves. How glad 1 
am that she, poor dear, did not commit this sin 
knowingly!” 

“1 often think it was jiist said in bravado,” 
said Paddy, gravety, “one of her dare-devil 
explosions, as we used to call them. You see, 
the ceremony of marriage she and Denis Mor. 
risen went through was rather strange ; and then 
twenty years’ desertion is as good as a divorce, 
sureiy. 1 don’t believe she could have upset her 
marriage with your father, but fortunately there’s 
no need to discuss the point. They’re dead now, 
] oor souls ; and their suffering and sins are over. 
Let us hope!” 

“It seems so strange, that very day when 
Denis Morrison died, her saying how she had 


PEG, THE RAKE. 


46:-5 

craved for wealth and freedomT’’ said Molly, 
musingly. “And then to gain both, and only 
know them useless.” 

“Not quite useless, sweetheart,” said her lover, 
gently. “She has made us happy at last ; yes, 
and taught us a lesson, too. We’ll put this 
money to a better use, please God, than she 
might have done. We’ll revive the good names 
of Carfig-duve and Castle Lustrell, too, and make 
them loved and honored for the sake of poor Miss 
Em.” 

“And Quinlan shall live with us,” said Molly, 
eagerly. 

“With all my heart, but not Aunt Sabina, an 
you love me.” 

“Oh, no,” said Molly, laughing. “She bids 
us good-by from the moment we are married; 
poor papa has insisted on that. I shall be the 
real mistress of Castle Lustrell at last.” 

“And I,” said Paddy, falling on one knee 
and touching her pretty hand with laughing lips, 
“your most obedient slave.” 

“Ah, no,” said the girl, hurriedly; “even 
with all I’ve heard and seen of the perils of 
wedded life, I want no slave for a husband, 
only—” 

“Only what, sweetheart?” 

“A true man.’’^ 

“1 can promise to be that, Molly, darling,” he 
said, rising and folding her to his heart with 
grave tenderness. “God helping me, those 
sweet eyes shall never shed a tear for wrong 
or sin of mine. There, no more tears, you’ve 


464 


PEG, THE E,AIi.jL!J. 


cried enough for one day. Give that letter to 
me.” 

“No, Paddy, no; I shall keep it always. It 
is just as if she herself were , speaking to me in 
every line, just as if her own voice whispered 
the tale of that warped, strange life. I could 
never utter. harsh judgment of her, dear. Let 
us only think what once 1 said to her : — 

“ * This sinner was a loving one.* ” 


THE END. 



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The Capitals 

of the Globe, 

Edited by Archibald Wilberforce, 

In One Superb Quarto Volume, containing over 
Three Hundred Illustrations, printed from 
New Plates on Super-Calendered Paper ; bound 
in Elegant English Cloth, Marble Edges, and 
with Side and Back Stamp in Gilt and Ink. It is 
the handsomest table book we have ever pub- 
lished. There is no better printed book than 
this in the world. 

The Political, Commercial, Artistic and Sacred 
Capitals of Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, 
South America and the West Indies, with graphic 
and accurate descriptions of all their Wonders, 
Shrines, Traditions, Sensations and Treasures ; 
their Political and Commercial Importance ; their 
Religious, Artistic and Climatic Attractions ; their 
Geographical Positions, Physical Features, History, 
Population, Industries, Trade, Traffic, Currency, 
Communications and Hotels, the manners and 
customs of the inhabitants — types and costumes, 
together with every information how to reach 
them, how to travel, and what it costs. Superbly 
and Profusely Illustrated with Engravings, 

The Capitals of the Globe is thoroughly up to date. In 
the hurry and rush of business there are many important 
facts and incidents in the history and development of many 
of our own chief cities that have escaped even the well- 
posted man or woman who keeps close watch upon current 
events, and it has been the special aim of the authors and 
editors of this work to let no such important change, epoch 
or event escape. It wiU be found that none of our important 
cities have been slighted, that the facts presented are in 
compact, convenient form for reference, and that the nar- 
rative and description in all cases are couched in the most 
unexceptionable diction. The Editor of this work is a lead- 
ing American author, and a traveler of great note, who has 
made good his claim to a place in the front rank of Ameri- 
can authorship. 


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Complete in One Royal Quarto Volume, 
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Offer No. ii. 

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WITH DORff ILLUSTRATIONS. 

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» 9 





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The Capitals 

of the Globe, 

Edited by Archibald Wilberforce, 

In One Superb Quarto Volume, containing- over 
Three Hundred Illustrations, printed from 
New Plates on Super-Calendered Paper ; bound 
in Elegant English Cloth, Marble Edges, and 
with Side and Back Stamp in Gilt and Ink. It is 
the handsomest table book we have ever pub- 
lished. There is. no better printed book than 
this in the world. 

The Political, Commercial, Artistic arid Sacred 
Capitals of Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, 
South America and the West Indies, with graphic 
and accurate descriptions of all their Wonders, 
Shrines, Traditions, Sensations and Treasures ; 
their Political and Commercial Importance ; their 
Religious, Artistic and Climatic Attractions ; their 
Geographical Positions, Physical Features, History, 
Population, Industries, Trade, Traffic, Currency, 
Communications and Hotels, the manners and 
customs of the inhabitants — types and costumes, 
together with every information how to reach 
them, how to travel, and what it costs. Superbly 
and Profusely Illustrated with Engravings. 

The Capitals op thb Globe is thoroughly up to date. In 
the hurry and rush of business there are many important 
facts and incidents in the history and development of many 
of our own chief cities that have escaped even the well- 
posted man or woman who keeps close watch upon current 
events, and it has been the special aim of the authors and 
editors of this work to let no such important change, epoch 
or event escape. It will be found that none of our importanl 
iities have been slighted, that the facts presented are ic 
compact, convenient form for reference, and that the nar-- 
rative and description in all cases are couched in the most 
unexceptionable diction. The Editor of this work is a lead' 
ing American author, and a traveler of great note, who has 
uade good his claim to a place in the front rank of Ameri- 
an authorship. 

1 

The above will be presented as a Premium 
jith a year’s subscription to ONCE A WEEK 
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Paradise Lost 

WITH THE DORS ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Complete in One Ro^^al Quarto Volume, 
in large, open-faced type, printed on 
Beautiful Super-Calendered Paper ; the 
Full-Page Illustrations are printed on 
Plate Paper and tipped in. This is a 
really, magnificent volume. We have 
sold hundreds of thousands of volumes 
at four dollars a copy. Other publishers 
have sold and are selling almost identi- 
cally the same book for six dollars. 

Offer No. ii. 

Dante’s Inferno, 

WITH DORSI ILLUSTRATIONS. 

(Same size and style as “ Milton’s Paradise Los^.”’) 

Offer No. 12. 

Purgatory and Paradise, 

WITH BORt ILLUSTRATIONS. 

(Same size and style as “ Milton’s Paradise Lost.”) 

We present one of the above as a Premium 
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LIFE AND TiriES 

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GREAT NAPeLEON 

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while Napoleon was being conveyed on 
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of Empress Josephine, Queen Hortense, 
and Caroline Bonaparte; and, lastly, 
Napoleon's Will. 


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The Capitals 

of the Qlobe, 

Edited by Archibald Wilberforce, 

In One Superb Quarto Volume, containing* over 
Three Hundred Illustrations, printed from 
New Plates on Super-Calendered Paper ; bound 
in Elegant English Cloth, Marble Edires, and 
with Side and Back Stamp in Gilt and Ink. It is 
the handsomest table book we have ever pub- 
lished. There is no better printed book than 
this in the world. 

The Political, Commercial, Artistic and Sacred 
Capitals of Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, 
South America and the West Indies, with graphic 
and accuiate descriptions of all their Wonders, 
Shrines, Traditions, Sensations and Treasures; 
their Political and Commercial Importance; their 
Religious, Artistic and Climatic Attractions; their 
Geographical Positions, Physical Features, History, 
Population, Industries, Trade, Traffic, Currency, 
Communications and Hotels, the manners and 
customs of the inhabitants — types and costumes, 
together with every information how to reach 
them, how to travel, and what it costs. Superbly 
and Profusely Illustrated with Engravings. 

The Capitals op the Globe is 1 horoutihly up to date. In 
the hurry au«l rush of business there are 'many important 
facts and incidents in the history and development of many 
of our own chief cities that have escaped even the well- 
poste<t man or woman who keeps close watch upon current 
events, and it has been the special aim of the authors and 
editors of this work to let no such'importaiit chancre, epoch 
or event escape. It will be found that none of cur important 
cities have been slisrhteil, that the facts presented are in 
compact, convenient form for reference, and that the nar- 
rative and description in all cases are coucheil in the most 
unexceptionable diction. The Editor of this work is a lead- 
ing American author, and a traveler of great note, who has 
made good his claim to a place in the front rank of Ameri- 
can authorship. 


The above will be presented cs a Premium 
with a year’s subscription to ONCE A WEEK 



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dyspepsia bad taste in the mouth pimples 

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when these conditions are caused by constipa- 
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One of the most important things for every- 
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